


Sacred Stomping Grounds

by Joy_in_the_House, MinervaNorth



Series: Lights Over a Chicago Skyline [2]
Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Additional POV, Crying, Cutting, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Funeral, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Medical Jargon, Medical Trauma, Resolution, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Mattress Factory Fire, Waiting in suspense, asking for help, talking it through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22733425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_in_the_House/pseuds/Joy_in_the_House, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaNorth/pseuds/MinervaNorth
Summary: January 8, 2008. October 12, 2015. March 5, 2018. May 22, 2019. All dates engrained into memory, like plaques of stone. Each one, sacred in their own right.After Kelley Marcks survives the mattress fire that took her friend, her teammate, her brother Otis, her family is thrown far and wide, scattered by the emotions coming out of the horrific event. But each deal with the situation differently, good or terribly bad.
Relationships: Crockett Marcel & Original Female Character, Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz/Original Female Character
Series: Lights Over a Chicago Skyline [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626604
Comments: 12
Kudos: 4





	1. I'll Always Remember You Young

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to Chapter 4 of Stow Away my Greys by MinervaNorth, which if you haven't read yet, you need to.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelley and Kate try to drink away the memory of the funeral of Otis by stopping at Molly's Pub. But with it being closed, and all the memories it holds, they only find themselves delving into their nightmares instead of their dreams.

**May 25, 2019**

**1332 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

**Kelley**

I find myself in the doorway of Molly's, and I take a moment to look around. The infamous table in a spot where there shouldn’t really be a table, and yet it’s there. 

I blink, and see the picture on the wall that matches the table. The picture of the 51 boys huddled around it, a mirror, bottle of shaving cream, and a razor on the table. Otis. Cruz. Herrmann and Mouch, even.

A time before I even knew them. I walk slowly towards the bar, and already I hate it. It's too quiet. I don't even bother flipping on the main lights. 

I don't want to be here. Not after… not after the last week. Not when I know who's missing.

I listen to the sounds I can hear, ruminating in the quiet.

My boots make soft thuds on the hardwood as I take my time crossing the floor. The crinkle of the bag in my free hand. When I set the bag on the bar, I finally let myself spin around slowly, wishing every second that I wasn't here.

I wish I hadn't decided to do this so soon after, but I wanted Herrmann to have a break. Besides. It means I get to do what I came to do.

I don’t let myself think about the “Closed” sign on the door. The scrawled note on a Post It under the sign, saying that we’ll be closed for at least a week and a half after.

I'm not ready.

There’s only quiet as I take my rightful place behind the bar.

I dutifully flip the calendar to today's date, minding my arm in the sling. 

May 25, 2019.

There’s small "_ thwick _" as the pot lights behind the bar flick on, and the stutter as the neon gets going.

I sit for a long moment in the silence, because I don't want to be here. 

Molly's feels empty. Barren. Foreign, even. 

I want to leave. I glance at the door, tempted. Crockett is still outside. I could walk out of here right now, and we could go home.

_ God _, I want to.

The bar is spotlighted, while the rest of the place is dark. I step out from behind the bar, and look at it from a table.

I blink, and I can see Otis behind the bar, laughing. Joking. 

I blink, and he's gone.

My phone buzzes from my hand, and I glance at it. Kate? Kate. I didn’t think she’d come. I invited her. I thought we’d just… I wasn’t sure.

_ I'm outside. _

I take a shaky breath, and look around one last time before she comes in.

Hell, even the door opens on cue.

Kate steps in, sending a dull smile at me. It looks wrong. It looks so wrong I want to cry. There’ll be time for that.

"Hey there, Wonder Woman," Kate says gently as she grips me around the shoulders in a half hug. She's minding my shoulder, and I'm grateful. Somehow even the words make that queasy grief buck in my throat again. It’s wrong. She never calls me that.

"Hey, Kate," I tell her softly, wincing at the awkward angle. She just leans back, surveying me, and I feel…. Exposed.

I settle down on a barstool with a nod. I don't even have the energy to smile back.

The door cracks open.

"Look, a wild Marcel!" Kate crows, but even that's wrong. Her voice should be a billion decibels louder. She's being demure. It's foreign. I don't like it.

I can see Crockett smile at her. It’s not _ his _ smile. It’s the fake smile he used to give. That he still gives. THe smile he tried to rely on as little as three months ago. Ow, no, Kelley, stop. Don’t think about that, because now that’s gonna be all I think about. A lonely night with two brothers, one feverish and trying to die, who stands here alive; and the other who helped him live, that _ isn’t _ here, because he died. Not even a week ago. 

"Hey, Katie Kat," he says as he comes in the door fully. He gives her a quick squeeze on his way past her, and she leans into the touch. 

My heart _ hurts _. I know I'm not the only one grieving, and I suddenly feel horrible for acting like I am. Kate knew Otis longer than me.

I'm so damn lost in my head I don't notice Crockett in front of me. The look in his eye that says he wants to grieve, but doesn’t really know how. I’ll make him later. 

He leans on the bar, turning me to look at him. I know he’s trying to be sure I’m fine, and it strikes me funny, because literally _ none of us are. _

"Call if you need me?" He asks anxiously, and I can't help but shrug.

"I'll be fine, 'Kett. Go. You have things to do," I say, but he still looks unsure. 

He looks older. The last few days have done that to everyone, I think.

"Crockett," I say again, aware that Kate's here, and she's pretending not to listen. "I'll be okay. I have ice here if I need it. And I have my.... I have.... where are they...." I start patting down my pockets.

Crockett holds up the bottle of my pain meds in front of me. "You left them in the car," he murmurs, and I snatch them from his hand.

"Thank you," I say stiffly, and he just nods. I feel his hand checking the tape of the dressing on my neck, and I bat it away.

"I just worry," he shrugs, brushing a kiss on the top of my head. As his arms circle me, holding me for a second longer than usual, I try to breathe. I try to fight the intrusive urge to bat him away again. To push him off.

After a moment, I finally get up and settle onto a stool behind the bar.

"Text me when you ladies are done, and I'll swing by to pick you up, Kel," he says as he's half out the door, but he pauses. "Bye ladies," he calls, wiggling his fingers at us, and Kate and I start giggling. And I can't _ stop _.

I'm wheezing on my barstool, and I see Kate lean over the bar, bearing down on me from above. 

"Get off," I giggle, pushing her away. 

She just lifts that judgy, judgy eyebrow. “Hey. None of that. Don’t… don’t need that right now, okay? We both deserve at least a little physical closeness right now.” She just sighs.

I nod, trying to catch my breath. “Do you want a drink or no?” I finally sigh, twirling a random towel around my wrist. When I look at her, I see her playing with her ring again. 

“Hmm? Sorry,” she says, blinking. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. If you are. Only if you are.”

“Yeah, I am,” I mutter. “Normal?” I already have a glass in my hand before she even answers.

She glances up at me, still messing with her ring. “What? Yeah. Usual. The… the usual,” she mutters, her voice breaking. 

I pour quickly, sliding it to here, already absentmindedly making my own, too. “Polishing it?” I ask off-handedly, nodding at her ring. She stares off at the bar for a while, silent, her eyes almost foggy. 

“Kate,” I say again, trying to see what she’s staring at. I hate that I already know, but I try anyway. I already know, but I see it too. Pain. 

“You know, he slipped me a shot. That night. I didn’t order it. He got me a damn shot of whiskey, and… and then two more, and I saw Greg. My entire life changed after that. I don’t wanna equate him with-with alcohol, or whatever, but he was always there. God, when… when Greg left, that year and a half, there were days when he had to take me home from Molly’s. From this damn bar. I was too drunk to stand up. A couple times, he was on the couch when I finally woke up,” she says, almost flat. 

I slam my glass on the bar with a sharp breath. “Yeah. He… he does that. Creeps on your couch. Steals your pillows. And blankets, don’t forget the blankets.”

“Keeps you alive,” she says under her breath. “Has a habit of doing that.” She just keeps spinning her ring, not watching, just spinning. 

I stare at my drink. It looks wrong in my hand, but I hold it up anyway. She scrambles to grab for the Guinness I had poured for her, holding it up, but not looking at me. After a moment of silence, she opens her mouth, shuts it, and tries again. 

“I don’t even know what to say.”

"Sometimes that's enough," I whisper. "Okay. To… to the ones who had a habit of just knowing." 

She looks up at me, a knowing look in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything. She just nods, clinking her glass against mine, hitting the glass to the bar like it’s a shot, and taking a long drink. 

I take a drink of mine, and it's sour in my mouth, but not because of the drink. I hate piña coladas. Why did I even make this for myself? Fuck. I'm not the one who even liked them. 

But he ain't here, so someone's gotta do it. 

I just stare at the bar in front of me, taking the towel and rubbing a spot. It's smudged. 

It's like I can see him polishing the wooden top, not leaving until it was gleaming. 

_ "Kelley, how does it look?" _

I shake my head, and find myself aggressively polishing a spot on the bar. It's like I heard him for a hot second, and I need a minute now. 

This damn spot won't come off. It's almost as insidious as the blood on Lady Macbeth's hands. I keep rubbing, only dropping when Kate's hand clamps down on my own, and I startle.

“Kelley, you need to stop,” she says calmly, not looking at me, just drinking more of her beer. Her grip gets a little looser once I break from my reverie. I don't want to stop, but I do. Already my useable hand is twitchy. 

"How are you doing?" I ask softly, staring at the smudged spot on the bar that I failed to clean. I wish I'd asked before. I should've asked. Especially the way she disappeared at the funeral.

God, was that only a few damn hours ago? I'm still in my dress uniform.

She pulls her hand away from mine, shotgunning the rest of her beer and setting the glass behind the bar in lieu of response.

Guess that's fair, but I can't let it go.

"Kate." Nothing. "Answer the damn question, Cavanagh," I whisper.

She stares at her broken, picked at nails, before taking the glass and leaning over the bar to fill up her drink. Instead, she glances at it, puts it back down, and crawls over far enough to grab a bottle of Jameson. She grabs a highball glass, and pours herself a double. 

“I’ve seen enough Goddamn funerals,” she says with a sigh, shooting back the highball like it’s a shot. 

I nod, taking the towel back and starting to clean the taps. I gotta do _ something. _

Fill the container with warm water. Use it and the cloth to remove the build up. 

I blink, realizing my hand with the cloth has been sitting in the water as I stare at the taps. Kate has inexplicably refilled her glass with whiskey. She still doesn’t look at me. 

“Kelley, you still with me?”

I let out a sigh. I don't answer. 

Why did I come here? I don't want to be here. 

She just pours another drink.

* * *

**May 22, 2019**

**Past**

_ Kelley jumped into her boots, pulling up the bunker gear as she swung into the rig. _

_ She was normally chatty on the way to a call, but this one felt different. _

_ The fact it was a factory fire meant there were significantly higher stakes. _

_ "Ready, Candidate?" Herrmann called when they were a block out. _

_ She nodded. _

_ "Candidate, you're with me and Ritter, got it?" _

_ That was that. _

_ Then it went to hell. _

_ Ritter and Hermann bought in the hose, knocking down what they could. Kelley found herself one step behind, keeping the line clear. _

_ She could hear Herrmann yelling, so she moved closer… and found herself staring at a boiler tank. _

_ "Chief, I got an old industrial boiler tank here," Hermman was shouting over his radio. "It's gonna blow, and it's gonna take out the whole block!" _

_ Kelley swallowed hard as Herrmann turned the hose on the tank, and turned on her heel, pulling the second line closer. Ritter passed her just then, hauling the extra, third line. _

_ The two settled beside their Lieutenant, hoses trained on the boiler. _

_ "I'm not leaving you," Ritter screamed, and Kelley echoed him. Herrmann ordered them out. They refused. _

_ The boiler's gauge rose higher and higher, the incessant whistling growing to an earsplitting level. _

_ Kelley steeled herself for the end. _

_ She wished she could have said goodbye to Crockett, at least. _

_ "Let's go!" _

_ The three turned, and there was the Truck crew. _

_ As they filed out, the boiler's whistle peaked, and the world seemed to just… explode. _

_ The ground buckled. _

_ The pressure snapped. _

_ The wall of superheated air and flame soared, and as the force blew the others to the ground, it scorched over and through the two nearest the tank. _

_ The others dragged themselves off the ground, and Cruz barely caught sight of the two bodies. _

_ "Over here!" _

_ Herrmann's frantic yelling almost drowned out the SCBA alarms. "Firefighters down, Mayday, Firefighters down! It's Otis and Marcks!" _

_ He repeated the message, voice breaking midway through. _

_ The pants and gasps of the others carrying the two out. _

_ Brett's panicked whimper as she tried to sit up was something no one really had an answer for. _

_ "What's happening? Otis? Kelley?" _

_ As the ambo pulled away, Cruz's voice was the quietest, and the loudest as he pleaded the both of them to just hang the hell on. _

_ Kelley found herself in a bed. _

_ Before her eyes had opened, she was conscious of a searing pain down her neck and chest. _

_ "Hey, hey," came a quiet reassurance, and someone had taken her hands. _

_ She opened her eyes to be met with Herrmann, who, apart from a few scratches, seemed safe enough. She blinked. _

_ "We're alive," she whispered hoarsely. She realized it had to have been the wrong thing to say, because Herrmann's face fell. _

_ Kelley tried to sit up, alarmed. "Herrmann…" she said softly, and the man in question sighed. _

_ When he told her who else had gone down, she wondered if she'd ever feel anything again. _

_ "Is he here?" _

_ Christopher Herrmann nodded. _

_ "Is he okay?" She asked in a small voice. _

_ He stood up. _

_ "I'll go find out," he promised. _

_ One knock on the door, and Casey stepped in. One look at his red eyes and the tears still dried on his cheeks told both the firefighter and the Engine lieutenant what they needed to know. _

_ The fact that Otis had died while coming to save both of them. _

_ Kelley didn't cry. She didn't know if she even had the strength to. _

_ When Crockett finally made it in, he fell into the chair, taking her free hand, and Hermann's. _

_ The three sat like that for a long, long time. _

* * *

**May 25, 2019**

**1456 Hours**

**Molly’s Pub, Chicago**

**Kelley**

I'm sitting down. Kate's in front of me. Am I crying? I hate it.

I'm at Molly's.

My heart is bleeding into my chest, all my feelings in the open. I've lost one of my best friends. My breath hitches, and then Kate's hand is on my back.

“Let it out,” she whispers. “If you keep it inside, it’ll eat you from the inside out.”

"No. The emotion is constipated," I say flatly. "Opioid induced, too. Even more of a bitch."

She doesn’t laugh. She just glances at the half full glass of whiskey and puts it into the sink, dumping it quickly. 

“It’s only going to make things worse if you don’t let yourself feel it,” she says. 

"I'm aware of how the body works, thanks."

She lets go of me, slipping back down onto the barstool, this time, going back to messing with her hands. 

“I thought you were dead, you know. I thought it was gonna be another funeral under my belt. Thought you were gone.”

I finally look at her, and I have no idea what to even say. She just stares forward, almost blankly. I’ve only seen that look a handful of times. 

“Met Marcel at the hospital, you know. Didn’t really want to meet him that way. WIth you. In the ED.”

"Figured you'd met." I look down at the sling. "He doesn't nickname people lightly."

“It was the first thing he said to me,” she says, laughing a little but it’s not humor she’s laughing at. “I didn’t hate it,” she seems to admit.

"He doesn’t do it lightly, but he does do it well," I whisper. I touch her arm as I head out from behind the bar. I grab the bag I'd brought as I go. 

Otis' favorite table isn't hard to find. It's well loved. It's like I blink, and there he is, asking me if I have another roll of receipt paper handy. I blink again, and he's gone. 

My eyes are blurry with tears as I slide the plaque from the bag, and two taps with a hammer later, I lay the plaque on a single, embedded nail. I realize I pushed the sling aside, using my arm, which is why I hurt like a bitch now, but I step back to look at the simple plaque.

“Looks good,” Kate says shortly. “He’d absolutely _ hate _ it. It’s perfect.”

"Gonna get one for Al, too," I whisper. "Gonna go up beside it."

For the first time today, she glances at me, and the emotion is back in her eyes. “You’re… one for Al,” she says, her voice wavering. “Good. He needs one here, too.”

I nod, and I carefully tug her into my side. She clutches onto me, then kisses her fingers, touching it to the photo on the wall. 

I chuckle tiredly. 

"Might not be here, bud, but we'll be here for you," I whisper. 

I can't help but feel like we're standing on sacred ground.


	2. We're like Fireworks and Symphonies Exploding in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crockett Marcel faces the day of the mattress fire and the death of Otis in his own way. But when he meets Kelley's friend Kate Cavanagh for the first time before serving as Kelley's plus one to the wedding, they realize a deep connection they never expected.   
More comes from Kelley, as she falls deeper into the hole that she always expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed Crockett's POV.  
Thank MinervaNorth for the idea.  
I was listening to "Remember You Young" by Thomas Rhett (also the chapter 1 title) and "Sad Song" by We the Kings and Elena Coats (chapter 2 title).

**May 22, 2019  
** **1502 Hours  
** **Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
** **Crockett **

I'm so damn _ tired _. I texted Kelley that Lanik had asked me to pull a double shift, and that was hours ago already. I think I've been going for almost sixteen hours. I've been slammed with cases, over and over.

And now I'm in a surgery that's pretty much cut and dry, as far as trauma cases go. For what it's worth, I just want to go home. 

I try to run through it in my mind. Kelley is off at 8, and I'll pick her up and then food, and then maybe make fun of her lack of Star Wars knowledge. A quiet night at home.

As I close, Ms. Goodwin taps the microphone. I don't look up. She's a wonderful woman, but Lord, if she don't still put the fear of God into me.

"Something I can do for you, ma'am?" I ask as I maneuver the sutures carefully.

She's silent, and I chance a look up. Her face is grim, and I focus harder on the stitching. If I'm supposed to help with whatever is the problem, then I need to keep my focus.

I finish up and speak again.

"Ms. Goodwin, can I help you?" 

"You've been requested," she says, and something in her tone bothers me. 

"What's the problem, ma'am?"

"Two firefighters from 51 are on the way in."

No.

"Who?" I don't want to know. Goodwin hesitates, and I already know it's bad. It's gotta be Kel. If she's hesitating… "Who?" I say again, the desperate need to know hammering in my chest.

"Zvonecek. And Marcks."

I strip my gloves and pull off the mask. I need to get to her. "Are they-" 

In transport, she tells me. Alive. Only just.

I follow her out of the OR, not looking at anyone.

God, have I not lost enough of my family? Why are You doing this to me again? Wasn't it enough before?

Kelley is the only reason I can keep going most days anymore. I only just got properly on my feet again after February. And Zvonecek...

Don't take her from me. Please. Don't take him from her. 

I push past Goodwin, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. My hands are shaking. 

I see the first stretcher come in. 

_ Otis _. 

I see the burnt flesh and I know that there is no way this can be fixed. I hate myself for that thought instantly. I need to focus on-

There she is. Kelley is wheeled in and my hands are on the gurney before I even really realize. 

Halstead is across from me, and he sees the look in my eye. He has to, because he looks right at me.

"Transfer on my count," he says. "Ready?" I nod once. He counts and we transfer her.

I need to know how bad it is. I know I shouldn't be here, but I need to know. 

I can see burns, and her shoulder is in an awkward position. It makes me feel sick.

"Crockett," I hear, quiet among the bustle in the room. It's Jim. 

I know what's coming.

"Crockett, I need you to recuse yourself from her case. It's a conflict of interest," he says softly.

I see his eyes move to the bed, and actual pain crosses his face as he drags his eyes back to mine. 

"I can't leave her," I say, and Jim watches me for a second. A whole second in which I manage to feel my entire world collapsing. Again. 

"You can stay with her," he finally says. "But as family only."

All I hear is that I can stay, and I nod. My hands are up as I step back to let Halstead work. Jim stands beside me at the door.

As they pull her away for transport and surgery, I see Halstead now taking over for Manning next door. 

I see Connor at the door, waiting to take her up. Thank God. Thank God it's him.

“The hell happened?” He asks, looking a bit panicked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

"Kel, boiler explosion, steam burns and dislocation, she's gonna need surgical intervention on a couple of the deep burns," I say quickly. "She's yours, Lanik pulled me."

He looks at me, hard, almost freezing for just barely a moment before touching a gentle hand against my shoulder and heading for Kelley. 

I want to go see how Otis is. Jim moves with me. I stand at the door and almost throw up.

The burnt flesh is seared into my memory and I feel sick beyond belief. Joe Cruz is in there with them.

I turn away, and I don't even realize when Jim leads me to a chair, pushing me into it.

We're in the waiting room. I see the rest of 51 filing in and I can only stare. 

Jim sits down beside me. "Why?" I rasp helplessly, and Herrmann looks over at me. He's banged up, but mostly okay. Shaken.

"Hey, Marcel," he says quietly. I don't even know how to respond to him. My mind is shutting down. 

Maggie comes out and sits on my other side.

I'm in between Lanik and Maggie, two of the four people in Chicago I trust the most. 

The third is working on the fourth, who could die at any moment. 

“Crockett, what do you need,” she says softly. 

"Who do I need to tell?" I ask quickly, and the cold fear hits me, the wave crashing over my head. 

“Who would she want you to call?” She asks. 

I try to think. "The firehouse already knows. Connor knows. Who's- Kate. Her friend Kate."

“Got it. I’ll get a hold of her,” she says, giving me a forced smile. “Or… would you prefer to? It’s all up to you.”

"I'll- I'll- I can…" I start, but my mouth isn't working properly. "Can I do it?"

She writes down a few numbers on a small post it before handing it to me, silently, with a small smile. That small smile that’s become so familiar. 

I take it, fumbling for my phone. It'll be a text. It has to be. I don't trust my voice. 

My fingers are shaking as I type, and my eyes burn with unwashed tears. 

They won't fall and it's making it worse. 

_ Hey, hi. Kate, this is Crockett Marcel, Kel's brother. I'm at Gaffney now, both Kelley and Otis just got brought in. It's pretty bad. _

My hands are hitting wrong keys and normally I'd ignore it but I can't.

I type two more words before I can't anymore. _ Please, come. _

Behind me, the 21st is coming in, and I catch Ruzek's eye. He gives me a solid nod, although I know he has no idea what I'm doing, and I feel strength enough to hit send.

I set my phone on my lap, hands still shaking. 

* * *

**May 22, 2019  
** **1624 Hours  
** **Gaffney Chicago Medical Center   
** **Kate**

The fight about our strengths and weaknesses just seems stupid now, as we head into Gaffney. 

Hell, I know what this feels like. I know the sickness in my throat. I’ve felt it so many times before. 

Unfortunately, for Greg, this feeling is not as familiar. 

Unfortunately, for me, it’s because I usually feel it because of something happening to him. 

He’s gone pale. I’m not sure why. I mean, I know why. I don’t know why I keep telling myself it’s all gonna be fine. 

It’s _ not _ gonna be fine. When have I ever been fine?

I keep thinking of what I told Greg. 

_ We have to communicate. _ And then _ is this a bad idea? _

That’s the last thing we said before I got the text that Kelley and Otis…

I bite back my lip as I practically sprint into the Emergency Department. I wish I could burn this place down. I hate being here. There’s nothing for me here except hurt and terror and violence. 

I’m almost immediately accosted by Severide. He looks a mess, covered still in soot and sadness. It seems to be his typical form anymore. 

“What happened?” I ask quickly, waiting for him to speak. Waiting for _ anything _. 

“Mattress fire. There was a boiler explosion... “ he drifts. I’ve seen his look before, so I rest a hand on his shoulder. 

“Severide. Stick with me. What happened?”

“Kelley, and… and Otis, they both went down,” he says simply. 

Already I feel the terror in my bloodstream, but I can’t do anything about it right now. 

I just feel Greg’s fingers curl into mine, holding on tightly, as I look around the Emergency Department waiting room, looking for something, _ someone _, anything to pull me out of this black water. 

Someone moves, standing up from where he was sitting between Maggie and Dr. Lanik. He peers at me, his hands in the pockets of his scrubs. Scrubs that match Will's, but I don't recognize this one. No, wait. I've seen him at Molly's, hanging around Kelley- oh. 

He tilts his head, like he’s trying to be sure it's me. I’m not quite sure what to do, other than give him a little smile, half a head tilt. She’s spoken so much about this man who seemed to have saved her. I just hope he still can. 

He clears his throat, but it comes out hoarse. Hoarse and exhausted, and terrified. "He-ey, there, Katie Kat," he says softly. 

My throat closes up. It’s not KC. It’s not Kate. It’s not Cavanagh. It’s not even Cap. It’s a nickname I’ve never heard before, a softness that I’ve never felt attributed to me. 

I can’t even hate it. Suddenly, it’s like this man knows part of my soul that I never knew existed. Still, I straighten a little, but it’s weak, as the tears threaten to breach. 

“Dr. Marcel?” I offer in a small voice. 

"That's me," he confirms, looking down at his shaking hands for a moment before looking back to me, pulling me into a gentle hug. I’m not sure what to do at first, until I can pull him closer to me. My breath leaves my lungs immediately, and I feel breathless. It’s not unwelcome, actually. I bury my face into his shoulder, and I have to push away the tears. I can’t cry. I don’t want to cry. 

His hand rubs over my back once, before it disappears. He still holds me with one arm, but his other hand lands on Greg's shoulder. His stiff stance shifts little, and I feel his hand still tight in mine. 

When I pull away, just barely, just enough to look at him, I try to wipe some of my tears away. 

“She’s told me so much about you,” I breathe, my voice breaking. He forces a smile. 

"Told me about you too, darlin'," he murmurs, and it's like that saps him, and he lands back in the chair. I help him ease down, glancing to Greg as we linger. 

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, to a man I’ve only heard about, to a man I just met, but I slip down to my knees in front of him, taking his hands.

“We’re gonna be okay,” I whisper. “She’ll pull through.”

Even as the words slip from my lips, I’m not sure I believe it. He just stares at me, his eyes firmly fixed on mine, like he can't look away. 

This time, the tears well in my eyes, and I don’t try to stop it. It’s only when I look up, and I see Will, that the gravity of the situation comes down on me. 

I don’t hear him. I have to read his lips. 

I can only see the words on his lips: _ nothing we could do _. 

At first, I’m terrified, I’m horrified, and I realize why. Was it Kelley or Otis? Kelley or Otis? 

Either way, everything changes. Everything has changed. Everything will change. 

I look up to Joe, and I see it in his face. The abject horror. The tears streaming. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry before. 

I let go of Marcel’s hands, and I feel them against my mouth as I slip back on my knees. 

Otis is gone. He’s gone, and we’ve lost another one. 

Like I always do, every time I’ve lost someone, my brain just scrambles, trying to find the last conversation we had. 

It was a couple of days ago. At the firehouse. I was lingering outside, waiting for Kelley and Sylvie, and he found me. 

_ I ain’t missin’ this wedding for nothing. _

I hold back a sob with my hands. 

_ You save me a dance _. 

I close my eyes, trying to hold back the sobs, but it’s no use. It’s no use at all. A hand lands on my shoulder again. I open my eyes, looking up to Marcel, wondering why the hell he suddenly felt like… I don’t know. Something like home. He just keeps his hand there, thumb rubbing small circles on my shoulder, his eyes far away, flicking between Will and where I see Connor lurking behind him.

Connor gives me a sad smile of recognition, but then his eyes flicker from me, to Dr. Marcel, and back again. The smile, even in the middle of everything shifts to something different. Like he’s made a realization, and then the tension from his shoulders seems to leave. I still don’t understand why, as I clutch to Greg, to Dr. Marcel. Marcel looks at Connor, his face saying something that I can't read.

I don’t need to. I don’t want to read it, quite frankly. I just want to sink into the floor, to become someone else. To forget this ever happened. 

But I know I _ can’t _. Because each date is engraved into my memory, a damn mausoleum to the dead. 

And it just received another name.

* * *

**Crockett **

I don't lift my hand from Kate's shoulder for a long time. I try to suss out news from Connor visually, but he's giving me nothing to work with. Finally I let go, stepping away numbly. I step into the door, leaving the grieving waiting room behind me. I'll let myself grieve in a moment. Right now, I need to know whether I'm mourning one, or both. 

"Con," I say softly.

He finally looks up to me, looking exhausted. I’m sure we all do. 

“We did everything we could, ‘Kett. We did. You gotta believe me,” he breathes. 

"I do," I breathe. "I know. I saw him when he came in. There wasn't gonna be much you _ could- _much you could do." I look down at my hands. They're clenched in fists, and I try to unclench them, but they shake so bad. "And- and Kelley?" I ask, my voice small.

“Took her to surgery. She’ll come out okay. She’ll have some healing time, but she’ll be okay.” There’s an unspoken moment of terror, shifting through his voice, his face, in the time it takes for him to realize the emotional trauma she would face in the months to come. 

I lean on the wall, shifting my eyes from place to place as I try to deal with the burning in my eyes. "Thank you," I whisper. "I… Jim wasn't gonna let me do it. I'm sorry it had to be you."

“I’d rather it be me,” he says, running his hand over his face. He seems to let out a heavy breath. “How are you handling this? How is…. how is Kate?”

I jump on the second half of the question. "Kate is… she's reeling."

“She’s strong. Too strong sometimes. She’ll deal,” Connor says. “She’s got… she has plenty to think about right now.”

"She just bought the dress," I say quietly, thinking back to what Kelley told me. "A few days ago."

“Then it’s our job to make sure Kelley can help get her down the aisle.”

I nod. "I- I'm gonna hang down here for a little longer," I say softly. "Stay with Kate for a little bit, I know she don't know me, but she seems to not hate me. Whatever Kelley needs to know about her injuries… it should come from you." 

He looks at me in fear first, then nods. “You’re right. It should be me. Unless Casey has already gone in.”

I catch sight of a blond head coming out of the elevator, heading towards the waiting room. "I think he did. But at least the medical shit," I add softly.

“You’re right, I just hate it,” he says bluntly. 

I grab him, pulling him into a hug. "You're amazing to me," I whisper. "You didn't need this shit. Not now, at least."

“We never really deserve this shit, do we?” He says. “Least of all someone like Kelley.”

"We'll get her through," I say quietly. "We will." 

“I’m just terrified one of these days, we’re all not gonna be enough,” he whispers, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “For one of us, for all of us. I hate being dark, man, but the fear’s there. You’re the only one I can tell that to.”

I nod stiffly. "I know. I get it." It sticks in my head for a minute that he's bared it all, and I haven't, a fact made worse knowing one of the two who know is upstairs, and the other is laying in a recovery bed, probably wondering where her family is.

It’s like Connor realizes it too, because he looks past me, giving me a little smile. 

“I should talk to her. I want to talk to her. Maybe… I might grab Halstead on the way. It’ll be good for her to see him.”

"Yeah. Good idea. Yeah." I fiddle with my badge. "Good idea."

“You gonna be okay?”

He looks at me hard, almost like he’s asked me twice. 

"Yeah. Go. I'll be fine." 

He nods, clapping his hand on my shoulder before brushing past, leaving me alone. 

I take a long breath, leaning on the wall. I need one damn minute before jumping back into the fray. One damn moment.

* * *

**Kelley **

First Colannino. Now Otis. 

But _ Otis. _The one who wanted my firstborn, essentially. 

I'm numb. Everything hurts so damn bad, between my head, my neck, my chest, my arm. My heart. 

I just stare at the ceiling. I can't even find it in me to cry. It just hurts. 

I sent Casey out. I needed him not here. I just needed quiet. 

And of course there’s a knock on my door. 

“Kel?” I hear Connor say quietly. 

"Connor," I answer. It's flat. It's hoarse, because my throat feels like it got boiled and scraped.

“Don’t try to talk. It’s okay,” he whispers, and I see Will behind him. An unlikely duo, as it were. 

"Fuck that," I mutter. "Why you two playing so nice? You're acting like someone-" I shut up abruptly, glaring at the sling. I don't want to finish the obvious sentence, because someone _ did. _

“Did Casey come and talk to you?” Connor says, sitting down on the nearest stool. Will looks at the edge of the bed and sinks down.

"Yes. He did."

“You heard about Otis,” Will finally says. 

"I did."

“I’m so sorry, Kel, we did what we could,” Connor starts. I zone out as he does the typical speech. I’ve heard it before. I’ll hear it again. 

"Just stop it," I tell him. 'Don't. Don't give me that. I know you always do, I don't need to hear that shit again. Just fucking stop it."

He looks surprised. He looks shocked, then snaps shut his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. I’m not sure for what.

I stare at the thin as hell blanket on me, almost angry. I'm not even sure why. 

"What do I need to know?" I ask abruptly.

“You had some nasty burns,” Will speaks up. “Neck. Part of your chest. A little on your back.”

“We had to cut out some of the tissue so it wouldn’t get necrotic,” Connor says. He’s so matter of fact suddenly. 

“We fixed your dislocated shoulder when you were out. The nasty concussion is gonna hurt for a while, though,” Will says softly. “Good thing you’ve got Marcel to watch over you.”

"Thanks," I tell them, and I do mean it. I wish it didn't come out so short and sharp, but it did. "Thank you." 

I stare at my hands. The hands that held a hose mere hours ago. 

“Do you have any questions? Can we… can we get you anything?” Connor asks. 

"I'll be out for a while, I'm guessing," I say flatly. 

“At least a month. Maybe two,” Will suggests. 

"Oh. Okay." 

“No questions? No… no complaints?” Connor asks, almost in disbelief. 

"Head hurts like fuck, and I just lost one of our mutual friends, who happened to be between me and the boiler, so if you don't count that as a complaint, you're in the clear."

Connor snaps shut his mouth, looking down. 

“We could bring up someone for you,” Will suggests. “Kate and Mouse are downstairs.”

"Not them," I say roughly. "I don't want them here." 

Will looks surprised. “Oh. Okay. Dr. Marcel could come up. Or Herrmann is still around—“

"That's fine."

“Do you want them, or….?”

"Whatever."

“We should probably let her rest,” Connor says, glancing to Will. He nods once. 

I give them a flippant thumbs up. Will tests his hand on my leg for a moment, getting up slowly. 

“If you need us, let us know?”

"Yep, yeah, okay," I mutter. "Thanks. And thanks to you, Mr. Tailor man, for stitching me back up." In the back of my mind, I know I'm being unfair, but I can't make myself stop.

He just gives me a look, but it softens after a moment. 

“I did my best,” Connor seems to try, standing up and giving me a smile. “Gonna check on Crockett. I’ll let him know you’re doing okay.”

I can't help but laugh once. It hurts. "Yeah. Do that. Find out if he's doing okay. Does he know about Otis?" I ask, softer now.

“He does,” Will says. “Everyone knows.”

"Check on Crockett then. Please."

“I will,” Connor says. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“I’ll check on the almost Gerwitzes,” Will tries. 

"Hey," I say suddenly. "Just… tell her not to come, okay? And that I love her. Both of them."

Both of them nod, starting for the door, almost stutter stepping as they try to have a silent conversation. It’s confusion. It’s fear. But most of all, it’s complacency. Like they’ve done enough. 

Good enough, I guess, as I settle back in. 

I don't even really feel the pain anymore. It's just overwhelmingly _ numb. _Like a Brian Dimitri Zvonecek-sized hole got blown in the side of my whole world. 

"Love you, Will, Connor," I say softly, but just loud enough for them to hear.

Connor gives me a smile. This time it’s genuine. 

“Love you,” Will says, and within a moment, they’re both gone. And I’m alone. Again. 

Seems to be a theme, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been in this much pain after writing before.


	3. You Can't Find the Fighter (But I See It in You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They convene for the funeral of a friend and brother, only to be faced with the fact that Kelley is disintegrating from the inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Rise Up" by Andra Day.

**May 25th 2019**

**0845 Hours**

**210 S Desplaines St., Apt. 9C, Chicago, IL**

**Crockett**

I see Kelley on the couch, but she's only half ready. 

Her collar only half covers the dressings on her neck, and the sling is a jarring white compared to the navy backdrop of her uniform.

I'm tightening my tie as I pause in the doorway, but she still stares at the floor.

It's been… three and a half days, and she has yet to say more than four words at a time. 

I'm worried. 

"Stop staring," she mumbles, and I walk over to her. 

I place an arm around her shoulders and she leans into my side. My sister is always talking, or laughing, or singing.

And she's so disturbingly silent.

I need to be grateful, I remind myself now. I almost lost her. My eyes sting suspiciously at the thought, and I have to take a deep breath. My tie is suffocating me, as is the collar.

Kelley doesn't look up as I sit beside her.

"We don't have to go if you don't feel up to it," I say.

She shakes her head. "I have to."

"I know."

I  _ need _ to give her the out. I know she won't take it. But she needs to know it's there. 

Her tie hangs loose around her neck. I check my watch. Half an hour until we have to leave. 

"Kelley." 

She doesn't look at me. I don't expect her to. "I'm with you all the way," I say. 

She still says nothing. I don't expect her to.

"May I?" I ask, and she nods. I undo the sling, pulling it off. She doesn't move. 

"Kel, come on, darlin'," I try. Nothing, so I gently reach across and do up her tie.

The part that disturbs me most is that she lets me. Normally she'd bat my hands away and fight with the knot, but she's just letting me tie it.

When I'm finished, she follows me off the couch, grabbing the bag from beside the door.

"You still planning to go to Molly's after the funeral?" I ask. She nods, and I'm secretly relieved. Maybe this is a step in recovery. 

The drive to St. Paul's is silent, her staring out the window. 

The funeral itself? Kelley is silent, unmoving beside me. 

I scan the room, seeing Kate and Gerwitz, the entirety of House 51, the 21st, several people from Med.

I hold in my surprise when she stands up. She never said she was going to do something, but I should've known. I see Herrmann and Ritter gather at the front, and she stands resolutely between them. 

I suck in a quiet breath as Herrmann begins.

"May 22 is gonna be burned in our minds," he says in his thick Chicagoan accent, nothing but solemnity in his voice. "We lost a good man that day."

"We lost a good friend," Ritter adds.

Kelley opens her mouth and it takes her a couple of tries. "We lost a brother," she says heavily, and I can see the wall she's put up take a hard hit from a battering ram.

Herrmann speaks again, but it's so formal coming from him that it feels wrong. "I invite Firefighters Stella Kidd, Randy McHolland, and Joe Cruz to the front."

The three come up silently, and stand in front of the Engine crew. 

I catch my breath as I see a larger than usual space between Cruz and McHolland. It looks almost intentional. 

I see the instant Kelley notices it, and the wall takes another hit. 

"The four of you came for us," Herrmann says somberly. "You came for us. You gave us a chance to get out. We were the damned. We were ready to let go for your sake."

He chokes up, and Ritter goes to speak. 

I listen, my hands clenched in my lap as I feel the familiar ache in my chest. 

"You came for-" and even Ritter can't speak. 

Finally Kelley steps up.

"We were ready to die in the midst of our duty," she says clearly, and it's the most I've heard from her in days. "We were the damned, and you came for us." She pulls in a breath. "If it wasn't for Otis getting behind me and actually pushing me through the door, I would have been in his place," she says.

I inhale sharply. I didn't know that.

"He put himself in the way." She takes another shaky breath, and I can see Herrmann turn to look at her. "He took the one who was destined to die and put himself in her place," she says, faltering. "I am alive today because of his sacrifice." 

She looks directly into the eyes of Kidd, Cruz, and McHolland. I wish I could see their faces. "And yours," she finishes. It's simple, but it's enough. 

I see Cruz crumble a bit, and McHolland steadies him. 

"Thank you," Herrmann recovers enough to say, his voice still choked with emotion. 

They disband, Kelley taking a step forward and wrapping Cruz in her arms. 

I look away. I have to.

When she returns to her seat, I say nothing, but I lay my hand on hers. She grips it firmly. 

The burial is worse. I stand beside Kelley, and as the casket is lowered in, I hold her up. 

I can see the exhaustion on her face, and the pain. 

I know the pomp and circumstance that goes with an FD funeral. God knows I've seen it enough. But I am surprised when after the covering of dirt, the pipes disband. 

Kel breaks from me, moving back to the place she stood before, near the head of the grave. 

She's barely spoken over the last few days, the funeral being the most she's said. But the way her voice carries now, quiet but crystal clear… that says enough as she makes her way through three verses of Amazing Grace. 

After the ceremony, she turns to me, and I'm struck by how much older she looks. "I need to just… stay a minute," she says quietly, and I nod. 

I move off a bit, letting her stand there. I don't want to leave her, but she wanted a moment. At a distance, I can see Kate. She's watching Kelley. 

I briefly contemplate going to talk to her, but I see the look on her face. It looks too much like the look on Kelley's. After a moment Kate disappears off into the trees.

I take a look back at Kelley, and now Herrmann is with her.

I start to walk to the car. She'll come when she wants to leave. I lean against the car, and the exhaustion of the last few days comes rushing back. I've slept eight hours total, we all just lost a friend, and my sister's fraying at the seams. 

My head throbs for a moment, and I think, to hell with the suit as I sink down the car door until I'm sitting on the grass. 

I let my eyes close for a moment. 

“Marcel?” I hear at a whisper. When I open my eyes and look up, I see the uniformed, straightened, stoic face of Jay Halstead. 

"Halstead. Hey," I say quietly, pulling myself up. He shakes my hand as soon as I stand. 

“You’re the one… you’re Kelley’s friend,” he says, almost flat, almost tired. “Thanks for takin’ care of her.”

I blink at him, surprised. "Why… wouldn't I?" I ask slowly. 

“Some people wouldn’t. Some people don’t. I’ve seen my fair share. But you? You stepped up when no one asked you,” he says. “It’s admirable.”

"She's my sister," I say softly. "Saw each other for each other, I guess."

He turns over his shoulder, looking for Kelley, but she’s nowhere to be found. He sighs. 

“I’m worried about her.”

"Yeah, same. She… Otis means a lot to her," I admit. "And knowin' that he's the reason she was far away enough to make it…"

“I know. It’s gonna haunt her for a while. Forever, maybe,” he says, looking off, far away. “If you don’t mind, I might check in with her from time to time? Just to make sure she’s…. She’s okay.”

"Gladly. Please do," I say, and it comes out just this side of desperate. "I can't always stay home with her."

“I’ll see if she’ll let Kate stop by too. We’ll do some sort of shift. Maybe. As best we can.”

"Doubtful," I sigh. "But try anyway."

He nods, and starts to head off, in a direction down the rows of headstones. 

It's quiet for a long moment, and then a small, "'Kett?" 

I look up, and she's in front of me. 

"Take me to Molly's," she whispers. "I'm ready." 

* * *

When I pick her up, I see Mouse picking up Kate. Kelley locks the door behind them and she stands on the steps, waving to Kate and Mouse as they pull away. 

She yanks on the car door, but it doesn't open. I frown and reach over to pop the handle. When she gets in, her arm is close to her chest. 

"What happened?" I ask, and she snorts once. 

"I pulled the door. Used the wrong arm. Sling is in my pocket, but I'm sitting on the pocket and I refuse to move."

I reach into the glove compartment and pull out one of the wide bandages I keep ready. I gently tie it so her shoulder is snug.

"I want to go home," she says, and I nod. It's a silent ride. It's not until we pull in the parking lot that I hear a sniff. 

She's laid her head against the window, and there are tears rolling down her cheek. 

"Kel," I say and she shakes her head. 

"Upstairs first." She gets out of the car and her legs buckle. I hurry over to her side, and lift her from where she caught herself on the bumper. She clings to me with her one good arm, and I see the pain on her face in the streetlight. 

We walk slowly up to the apartment and I point her towards the couch, setting down my coat by the door, turning back to see her frozen in the middle of the floor.

"Crockett," she says, perfectly still before her voice breaks. I reach out, my hand hovering in mid air. She takes a breath, and a sob bursts out of her, sudden and violent. 

She crumples in on herself, and I catch her as she falls into my chest, her head on my shoulder.

I hear her ragged breaths that aren't quite sobs. Her legs are starting to fail her, so I hold her up against me.

"Hey, hey," I say softly. "I've got you, right here." It's like that makes the sobs come harder, and it's all I can do to hold her so she doesn't fall.

When my own knee threatens to give out, I regretfully lower us both gently to the floor.

She's sobbing, and I'm terrified she's in more pain, but I can only pull her closer. I feel the ache of my heart breaking as I hear her wails. 

Her grief is drowning her, and I don't know what to do, so I hold her. 

I feel tears on my face as I listen to her. There are words, and I strain to hear them.

"Should have been me," I hear, and my stomach twists painfully. I don't think I can even think of that possibility.

"Why him? Why not me?" 

She cries out again and again. 

I don't have an answer. It's that moment I realize I've heard this before, I've cried it before. And I  _ know  _ there's no answer. There isn't. 

"I know, baby, I know," I whisper. "I know." 

I try not to think of the last time I texted him. The other night not withstanding.

We talked about ties. Neck ties, of all stupid things. That was a  _ week  _ ago. A damn week. I knew him for what, three months. 

God, it's been three months since Kel and Otis knocked me on the floor. Three months I wouldn't have been here for, and now three friends are only two. 

I pull Kelley into my lap as she cries. She keeps asking why.

I still don't have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MinervaNorth I love how we can just rant about our fics together. 
> 
> It makes fics like these so much more rewarding.  
Thank you. ❤


	4. I Once Was Lost, but Now Am Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A turning point, in which Kelley hits rock bottom, and finally—finally—accepts help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: for fairly heavy undertones and suicide attempts.  
I don't write this lightly. This has been a story I'm working out my own problems with.  
Thank you to MinervaNorth for chasing after me and bringing me back. For peeling me off the floor. For being there to ask me "Why?" and work it through.

**June 25th, 2019  
****1526 Hours  
****210 S Desplaines St., Apt. 9C, Chicago, IL  
****Crockett**

Kelley is back at work tomorrow, and I'd be lying if I said this didn't bother me.

It's been a month. 

Now, I'm not going to stand in the way of her life. I'm just worried, is all. 

Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

* * *

**Kelley**

I find myself sitting on my bed. 

I'm supposed to return to work tomorrow, and I'm not ready. I don't think I ever will be.

I just want this to end. 

By all rights I should've died in that fire. 

Brian Zvonecek put himself between me and that tank, and he paid for it. 

And I feel that guilt every day.

I shouldn't have lived through that, and it's my fault Otis died in that blast. 

I was supposed to be the last one out, and the house lost a firefighter, a brother, that day instead of me. 

I should be grateful for a second chance, but how can I be grateful for something I don't deserve?

I shouldn't be here. By all rights, I should be dead right now. 

I could die on a call tomorrow, I don't know. 

Hell, I could slip off the balcony tonight and I'd die. 

Who knows?

_ Wait _.

With a sigh, I wonder if I have enough energy to walk to the balcony. 

Crockett is at work.

Funny, the last thing I wanted before the tank blew was to say goodbye. 

I don't want that anymore, because I know it would kill him. He'd be eaten with guilt.

So this? This, I do alone.

I make my way to the balcony, and I sit gently on the railing. The hot breeze buffers me gently, blowing my hair.

Maybe I should just call Crockett. He'd be here within minutes. He'd be a wreck the second he got here, but maybe I wouldn't want this. 

What I'm doing is insane. I should not do this. But... if it happens, it happens. If not, I'll just go back in and no one is the wiser.

Just me. Just me, knowing what I was ready to do -- no, not do. Let happen.

I sway gently in the breeze, and as I wobble slightly, I panic, sliding onto the balcony floor as I stare at the railing.

I almost died. And I was ready to let it happen. 

So I'm up, sitting there again, because now I _ know _. I know what I want.

"_ Kelley _!" 

I almost fall before I'm ready, and I meet Jay's eyes as he pulls me forcefully off the railing.

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

I pull away from him, and suddenly he's pinning me to the floor. 

"Stop moving," he says, and his voice is raw. He's using his weight to keep me down, and he's pulled out his phone. "Will, Kelley. Apartment, need help."

"No!" 

He's collapsed beside me, and I'm locked into his arms. 

"No, I'm not letting you go," he says, panicked. "You're sticking here with me."

"Let me go, Jay," I sob, pushing back against him as I try to escape. 

He only holds me tighter. "Dammit, no. I ain’t gonna let you go. Kelley…."

There's a question and I don't want to think about it. 

"Let go!" I'm screaming now. 

He sits up, pulling me into his lap.

"I've got you," he whispers. "I've got you, you're okay, I'll get you through this."

I don't want to get through this, I want this to end. 

But he's holding me too tight for me to do anything. He's rocking me, and he's humming something under his breath.

He won't let me go. 

It's a moment before I realize he's crying, and my stomach knots. 

"Jay," I whisper as I reach up, and his hand catches mine. He grips it almost painfully hard, and I begin to realize what I've done.

There's a rattle at my front door, loud enough to hear from the balcony. 

Will must have used his key, because he bursts through the door. He's looking around before he spots Jay and I. 

"What's going on?" He asks before he sees the tears on Jay's face and the desperation on mine. He puts the two together and I see the moment he does on his face. He's down beside us in a heartbeat, gathering the two of us tight in his arms. 

"Kelley, what can I do?" He asks softly, and I know it's the wrong answer but I can't help myself. 

"Let me go," I whimper, and he's shaking his head, and he echoes Jay.

"Never." He just holds me tighter. 

"Jay, I want to bring her to see Dr. Charles."

I don't hear Jay's response because I'm suddenly screaming and kicking.

They can't bring me to Gaffney. They can't. 

Suddenly someone's picked me up, and my arms are pinned. 

Jay's still crying, and he's carrying me through the apartment. Will grabs my purse and my phone, and they bring me downstairs. 

I say nothing as I sit in the back seat of Will's car. Jay’s still holding me. 

We pull up to the hospital, and Jay helps me out of the car while Will parks. 

The two almost half carry me between them. We go through the main doors, not the ED doors. 

Small mercies, I guess. Don't want my staff having to watch their psycho boss get carried through. 

The two of them march me into Dr. Charles' office without so much as a word, and the man, damn him, looks across his desk at us with a raised eyebrow. When he sees the mess I'm in, though, he's all business. 

I know he should probably call my therapist from East Mercy, but I think he sees how overwhelmed I already am. 

And then? Then the hell.

* * *

**Crockett **

I've called Kelley twice now, and there's been no answer. Maybe she's watching a movie, I tell myself. She's fine. 

I call one more time anyway, and this time the call goes through. 

"Hello?" 

"Halstead?" I ask, shocked to hear Will Halstead's voice on the other end. 

"Hey, Marcel, not a good time right now, Kelley can call you back in a bit."

"No!" I try, confused and afraid. "What's going on?" 

He sounds distracted. "Not right now."

He hangs up, but not before I can hear both Jay's and Dr. Charles' voices. 

I know where to go. 

I find myself half pounding down Dr. Charles' door, out of breath. 

I'm met by the sight of Dr. Charles talking to Kelley, who is on the couch, sandwiched between the two Halstead men. 

Will stands up when he sees me, and I take his place. Kel doesn't even acknowledge me. 

She's in tears, and the sobs sound like they're ripping her apart. 

Jay's rubbing circles on her back, a motion that I match. 

Will gives me a moment before he pulls me back into the hall, shutting the door behind us. 

"Marcel, listen," he says softly, and my heart's beating so damn loud, I almost can't hear him. 

"Jay went to go bring her coffee, and when she wasn't answering her phone or the apartment buzzer, he used his key." He hesitates and I could almost _ hit _ him, I'm on edge so damn bad.

"He saw Kelley on the railing on the balcony. She was getting ready to jump."

I stare at him. "No," I say, dazed. "No."

Halstead still looks at me, and I don't even realize when I list sideways. 

He helps me to the ground as I lean against the wall.

No. She wouldn't. 

She wouldn't do that.

But she _ would _. She would, just as much as I would. 

And I realize I've been blind. 

I missed all of this. I never saw it. I thought she was getting better, but I missed _ this _.

Halstead's grabbing my shoulders, but I can't look at him.

"Marcel, don't you dare start that," he says, and I wonder if I said it out loud. "I can see that look on your face. Do not blame yourself." 

I can't help it. 

* * *

**Kelley**

Jay is still beside me. 

Dr. Charles is still talking. 

Now what? 

I can hear Will and Crockett just outside the door and I wish I didn't. 

"Kelley, I need you to look at me. I need you to understand. I need to admit you." 

Jay pauses. 

"Wait, hold on, Dr. Charles, can I just…. Make a call first? Before we continue this?"

I don't hear his answer, but Jay's suddenly gone from my side, replaced by Dr. Charles, and I fall into his one-armed hug. 

* * *

**Jay**

I step out into the hallway, across from Will and Marcel. 

Marcel looks like a wreck. 

I dial and get her voicemail.

"Kate, it's Jay," I say urgently. "You gotta call me back. It's urgent, okay?"

I pace. I don’t know how long I do, but the moment my phone starts to vibrate, I answer. Kate sounds terrified. Rightly so.

“Jay? Jay, what’s going on?” The panic sits harsh in her voice. I’m afraid what my voice is going to sound like.

"I'm at Gaffney. Outside Dr. Charles' office. I need both you and Mouse down here, like, now." I eye Will and Marcel before turning back to the phone. "We need major help."

“What? What happened?” She asks, scrambling. I hear her keys. “Mouse is in class, I’ll… I’ll text him, but he’s going to take a minute. I’ll be down… what... “ And her voice drops off. It’s like the realization hits. “It’s Kelley, isn’t it?”

I swallow and my voice comes out hoarse. I try to ignore the sound of panic from the surgeon on the floor across from me, and my brother's quiet reassurances.

"Just get here," I plead, and I hope she gets the urgency.

“Stay on the phone with me,” she whispers, the car door slamming. She’s not far out. With her driving, five minutes at most. “Jay, you gotta tell me. You have to. What did she do? How far did she go?”

I don't want to say it but I do anyway. She had to know. 

"She was on the balcony railing," I say, trying to tune out the soft sob I hear from Marcel. "She fought me and Will. She wanted to jump."

“W-what? What? She didn’t-- you-- you got her? Right? Jay, tell me you found her before-- before--”

"I pulled her off the railing. I tackled her. I had to." I'm wondering why my voice hasn't broken yet. "She almost jumped, Kate, she tried to fight us, kept asking us to let her go-" My voice does break then, and I clap my hand over my mouth. 

“I’m here,” she says hoarsely. The car door slams. “I’m on my way up. It was Otis, wasn’t it? She finally.. It was Otis. Of course it was Otis.”

I have to lean on the wall. I hear her on the other end of the phone but I'm just trying to wipe my mind. If I had been ten seconds later… I can hear Marcel, I can hear Will, but I hear nothing from Dr. Charles or Kelley. Silence through the noise. 

Ten seconds. 

Kate hurtles up the hallway, hanging up her phone as she sees me. She throws her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug, her eyes already wet before she finds out more information.

“Jay, tell me how she is.”

"She, uh- she's pretty much shut down," I say hollowly. "Dr. Charles wants to admit her. Kate… it's bad."

“She can't be admitted,” Kate immediately says. “She won’t lose her job, but… but there’s going to be serious repercussions. She might be transferred off active duty. That would… that could actually kill her, Jay.”

Marcel speaks up bleakly from the floor. 

"They would. They'd take her off. She was given a warning because she seemed unstable to top brass right after… after Otis. This would give them the final reason." He shuts up after, his eyes going dull again. 

I look at Kate. 

"We gotta do something. Kate, we… we almost lost- if I was ten seconds later-"

“No. You gotta stop that line of thinking,” she says. She’s trying to convince herself. I can tell. I’ve known her too long. “You got there. Stop thinking what if’s. We’re gonna do something. I…”

Mouse nearly slides into the wall as he makes it into the hallway. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

I stare at him, and everything hits me. I want to protect Kelley. I want to protect Kate and Mouse, they've struggled enough. Kelley too. 

I know I've thought about it. I know Mouse had thought about it. I don't completely know if Kate has. But she's been caught in the dark before. 

I don't know what to say when Mouse meets my eyes. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. Don’t do this. Nah. Where is she.” He starts looking to Dr. Charles’ office, starts heading towards where he thinks Kelley might be. “I need to talk to her.”

I don't stop him. I look at Kate. 

What now?

“We gotta do something,” she mutters. She keeps whispering it. “We gotta… we gotta do something.”

Mouse hears her and stops. When they make eye contact, I see that shred of hope between the two of them. 

Kate just nods. Once, almost imperceptibly. He heads into the room.

* * *

**Kelley**

I sit there. Dr. Charles is beside me. 

I feel nothing. 

Not pain. 

Not anger. 

Nothing.

The door opens but I don't even look up.

“Gerwitz, you shouldn’t be in here,” Dr. Charles says. 

“I want to talk to her. You know why,” Mouse says shortly. He kneels down in front of me. I don’t look at him. I can’t.

Dr. Charles shakes his head. 

"You shouldn't be in here," he repeats. 

“Kelley, am I alright to be here?” Mouse says. He’s quiet. It’s disconcerting.

I finally nod. 

Dr. Charles sighs, and he steps away. He shouldn't do this, I know, but he steps out of the room. He leaves Mouse and I. 

I still can't look at him.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. Softly, quietly. This is Mouse. This isn’t him. “Can I sit down with you?”

I nod again.

I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. But he sits down next to me, holding out his hand, resting on his leg. He’s silent for a long time, before he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Before I met Kate, I settled into a self-destructive routine. Even after Jay had peeled me off the ground. I thought I could take care of the thoughts myself. I thought leaving Kate—God, the best thing that’s ever happened to me—was the best option. And throwing myself back into war would help. But then March happened. And I had no idea what to do. It threw me so hard, I had no clue where I would end up. And I think that was what scared me the most.

“I thought I had nothing left. I had no purpose, I couldn’t even walk. Every day I woke up, I was almost… disappointed. Maybe this time. But you know who was there, doggedly on my ass, until I figured it out? Kate. Stubborn as hell, not letting go. 

“She gets it to a certain point. She understands it, but… ah, well, I don’t think she understands it. I hope to God she never will. You get to a point in your life when you don’t think it’s worth it anymore. But it is. Even when you don’t think you are. 

“You see, you could be at your lowest, blamin’ yourself for Otis’ death, or whatever darkness you got inside, but you’ve got people. You’ve got Crockett, he’s a literal basket case out there. Jay and Will. Will’s pacin’ like he’s gonna put a hole in the floor. Dr. Charles. All of us. Kate…” his voice cracks when he says her name. “Kate and I. Kate’s the only reason I’m alive today. I shouldn’t put that much blame on one person, sure, but she’s got broad shoulders. She just kept comin’ back for me. And I want you to know I’m gonna keep comin’ back for you. I made it through. And now? I wouldn’t change it for the world. In almost a year—not… not even a year—I want from wanting to die, wanting to kill myself, to getting engaged to the one person who held onto me. And now? We’re going to get married. Find a house, probably. God, have kids. Can you imagine?” He chuckles. “The two of us with kids.”

“Maybe it’s selfish, but I want you to see that. I want you to be a part of that. I can’t stand the thought of having to tell my kids—our kids. Kate and mine—stories about their aunt that they can never meet. 

“So. Consider this… consider it a sign. I told Kate… I finally told her about… about what I planned on doing. I told her I had considered it. And every time, at my lowest, she would be there. And I would think ‘not today’. There were worse days, and then there were other days when I said ‘not today’. I want to be able to fill your days with ‘not today’. But you gotta be there, you gotta try. And you gotta know that we’re gonna be beside you the entire time. Because we love you. And you’re worth it.”

I finally look up at him. 

"Mouse…" I say, hoarse, shaky. Mentally overwhelmed. 

“We’re gonna pull you back,” he says out of the side of his mouth. He smirks, he looks down, and he comes back with a full smile. “You never know when you’re gonna meet your Kate. And then your whole world gets color again.”

I reach out and grab his hand. 

"I don't want to… I never wanted- I did want it-" 

I can't speak. I'm crying. When did I start crying? 

“I know, kid. I know. Ya never do. You just want all the thoughts in your head to… to stop. But there are people who can help. I can help. Speaking from experience. Dr. Charles… Crockett,” he says, gesturing towards the hallway. “We’ve got your back. We’ve got it for… for better or worse.”

I fall into him. 

I'm shaking now, and I can't stop. 

There's help right in front of me, and for the first time, I want it.

I want it. 

I don't have the strength to put my arms around him, so I just lean into him.

He's my anchor right now.

He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me, keeping me close. 

“Why don’t you take some time off and spend some time with Kate and I?” He whispers, running his hands over my back. “We’re not teaching after today. We’re at home. Hang out with us for a while, okay?”

I nod. "I'd… I'd like that." I pause, and the shaking returns. "He… he wants to admit me, Mouse, I'll be… I'll be stuck on watch, I'm supposed to go back to work tomorrow!"

“Hey. Hey, first thing you gotta do is breathe. Second. No one is gonna fault you for taking more time. We’ll call Boden and take care of it. Third. Kate’s takin’ care of the whole admitting thing now. I can hear her and Dr. Charles from the hall. You’re gonna come home with us, you’re gonna talk to Dr. Charles, and for as long as you need. No one is gonna tell you how or when you gotta get better, okay? You do it at your own pace in your own time.”

I nod and try to breathe. 

I'm almost back to a near normal rhythm when I look up at Mouse, and there are tears on my face.

"Crockett-" I whisper. "I didn't want to hurt him." I almost can't breathe again. "Is he- is he okay?"

“He’s fine,” he says. “He’ll be better if he hears it from you.”

"Jay?" 

“Called Kate and I,” he confirms. “Worried. Worried sick. I kinda… busted through the front lines past them.”

"Glad you did…" I murmur as I lean back into him. "Can we go now? I… I don't want to be here anymore."

He nearly lifts me up, almost carries me out of the room and to the hall. He shields me from the others. I don’t know if I can face them. 

“Kate, goin’ home,” he says.

We leave the others behind.

* * *

**Jay **

I watch Mouse and her pass, and from where he sits against the wall, Marcel pushes himself off the ground.

I watch him stalk off down the hallway, and I look at Kate. 

"What do I do now?" I whisper, and I really don't know. 

“Do what you do best,” Kate says. “Be there for her. You already were. You saved her.”

I can't help it now. I start crying again. 

I'm thirty-three goddamn years old and I'm crying again, for the second time today. 

I have to sit down, and I slide down the wall. 

I can't stop.

Will is with me. 

I hear Dr. Charles talking. 

"I'm still not completely comfortable with this. What if for some reason you can't get to her?"

“There’s nothing she can’t try that I haven’t seen before,” Kate whispers. “She’ll lock herself in a room, I’ll just break in. I’m not scared. I’ve got her.”

Dr. Charles nods, and he seems to give his final consent within that nod. 

I can't stop and through these stupid tears I look at Kate. 

Will speaks up. "Kate, you've got Kelley's back?"

“Forever. Forever and always,” she says, watching down the hall. 

He nods. "Go. I've got Jay."

I can't help but nod. 

I smile at Kate, watery. 

"Your turn."


	5. I Was Blind, but Now I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelley goes home with Mouse and Kate, only to find out that her situation was more dire than anticipated. Still, Mouse shares his own history with her, and Kate subjects her to her questions of 'why' until Kelley breaks even further than she had before. But sometimes, the only way we can heal is if we break the bone completely.

**June 25th, 2019  
** **1726 Hours  
** **Gaffney Chicago Medical Center  
** **Mouse**

I hold onto Kelley. We make it to the parking lot, and I help her into my car. 

“We’re headed to the apartment,” I say. “I’ll have Crockett bring you whatever you need. You hungry? Tired? What do you need?”

"Food," she says softly. "If that's okay." 

She's quiet for a moment before speaking again. 

"Thank you for doing this."

“Hey. Doesn’t take a lot to be there for someone. And for some people, that’s the difference between life and death.” I consider it for a moment. I know what I’m saying. But I shake it off. “Food. Yes. What kind of food?”

She heard it. Her head tilts against the window. 

"Italian." She pauses. "I'm sorry in advance, guys," she mutters under her breath, so quietly I strain to hear it. "Italian," she says again.

I squint. I don’t know what’s going on in her head. “Alright, I’m sending Kate. Anywhere in particular?” I get out my phone to text her. 

"Anything." She's quiet, her head still resting on the window. "Mouse?" 

I text Kate. Italian, just bring everything and then look to Kelley. “Yeah, kid?”

"Are you sure about this?"

She's unsure. I’m not. 

“Kelley, I’ve only been sure about…. Three things in my life. One, joining the Rangers the first time. Two, proposing to Kate at Molly’s that night. Three, making sure you get through this. Alright? Stop second guessing me.”

I put it in drive and head out of the Gaffney parking lot.

She nods. She's quiet all the way home. 

She's fidgety too. I don't know what's going on in her head. I turn down Racine, and reach out my hand, palm up to her. 

After a moment, she puts her hand on mine. It’s two fold: to remind her I’m here, to ground her, and to make sure she doesn’t try to jump out of the car. I’m still not sure. I’m still unsure about her plans. Good thing the car doors automatically lock. 

Stop, Mouse. Stop questioning her. Stop worrying. She’s going to be okay. She’s got you now. 

She's still quiet. But she's eyeing the door. 

Apparently I was right. 

She sighs as we pull into the driveway.

"This it?"

I nod. “I’ll help you out, hang on.” I step out, coming around to the other side of the car. When I open the door, I extend her my hand again. 

“C’mon. Let’s get upstairs.”

She's quiet, and immediately half sits down on the couch, half falls on it. Carefully, I eye the doors to the balcony. Locked, locked. Check. She would need a key. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I don’t want her out of my sight.

I silently thank God classes aren’t in session right now. I can watch her all day if I have to.

“Alright, Kelley,” I say, clearing my throat. “Do you want to talk, or do you want a distraction?”

She shrugs. "Can I use the washroom? I want to change clothes." She shivers, as if to prove her point.

I’m wary of this, but I nod. “I’ll grab some of Kate’s clothes,” I say. I hope I can trust her. I really don’t want to think like this, but the first few hours are crucial. 

I gesture towards the bathroom door and quickly grab some of Kate’s clothes from her comfy drawer. 

"Thanks," she says softly, and goes in. Almost instantly, I hear the door shut and the lock engage. And I sprint.

“Kelley,” I call out, trying not to sound so fearful. “Kelley, unlock the door.”

I can hear a sob, and a thud as if she sits down hard on the floor. 

"No," I can hear, muffled. "Sorry."

“Kelley,” I call out again, going into our bedroom. I find what I need on our dresser—a bobby pin. I bust it in half. “Kelley, you remember what I’ve told you about what I used to do, right? I used to be a criminal. What makes you think I can’t get into this bathroom?” It takes me about fifteen seconds to pick the lock. The door swings open. 

“Try all you want, kid, but I’m always gonna be two steps ahead of you.”

She's on the floor, hugging her knees, tears streaming down her face. Almost like she's ashamed, she drops something to the floor, a metal clink. 

Her hand shakes, a drop of blood falling on the tile, and she hides her face in her knees. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking  _ sorry. _ "

I try not to move too quickly, I don’t want to scare her, but I snatch up the blade from the floor. Note to self: secure the apartment. When Kate gets back. Right now, I just toss it into the trash can. Better than in her hand. 

“Kelley, let me see your wrist.”

She's shaking, and finally turns her wrist so I can see. "I'm sorry," she whispers again.

“Stop apologizing,” I say. It’s more of an order than a request. “To apologize, you’re expressing regret for something you’ve done wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong to me. You’ve never done anything wrong to me. You should apologize to yourself. You don’t deserve this, okay?”

When I look at it, the slash on her wrist starts deep for about a centimeter, then peters out to a scratch. It’s bleeding, but it’s not severe. It’s like she changed her mind halfway through. Or when I busted in. I haven’t decided yet. We’ll act like it’s the worse option, and I’ll pray for the better one.

I open the cabinet under the sink and find the first aid kit, not letting go of Kelley. With my other hand, I find a bandage and some neosporin, then touch it gingerly to her wrist. I wrap the gauze around it to keep it in place and tape it on. 

I sit back against the tub, my arms resting on my knees. 

She's still. She keeps looking at the floor. 

"I wanted-" she starts, then stops. 

“You can finish your sentence,” I say. “Say it out loud. Let’s talk it out.”

"I wanted it to end," she says bluntly, looking up at me. "I do, but I don't." She picks at the gauze restlessly. 

“You want the pain to end,” I respond. “It doesn’t mean  _ you  _ should end. You and your pain, and your PTSD, and all that shit? It ain’t you. It’s shit that happened to you. Can I… can I show you something?”

She nods wordlessly.

I shift so I’m sitting next to her, and I start to roll up my sleeves. I’m self conscious again about the burns, the scarring on my wrists from the convoy, but I breathe through it. And I unhook my watch, showing her my arms.

“What do you see, Kelley?”

Her breath catches, and fresh tears well up in her eyes. "S-scars…"

“What kind of scars, Kelley?”

She shakes her head, looking at me, and the pain on her face takes over. 

I show her on my left wrist, the jagged line in the middle of my scars. “March 16, 2018. Four days later, Kate visited me in the hospital. I, uh. She kissed me that day. And this one—” I point out another, not far underneath. “April 30, 2018. Three days later, Kate took me to lunch. We… we talked. We just talked. And this one—” I point out the deepest one. “After Al’s funeral. Kate… she tried to get me to talk to her there, and… I almost gave up. The last one, that was May 28, 2018.” I point it out. This one starts lengthwise. “Kate… Kate took me home the next day.”

I let out a heavy breath. My hands shake. 

Kelley crawls across to me. She leans her head on my shoulder, grabbing my hands. "It's pain that I can control," she whispers, like she's trying to justify something. 

“Pain controls you,” I say. “It forces you to do stupid things. Like… like this, or—or climb up on balconies. Rejoin the Rangers when the love of your life is crying for you not to go. People like us, we want to wallow in the pain. It’s what we know. So when the happiness comes, we’re afraid of it. We’ve taught ourselves to not believe in it. That it ain’t real, or that it’ll go away. The things that are important, the things that matter? Those won’t go away. I’m not goin’ away, Kelley. Neither is Jay. Or Will. Or Crockett, or Kate, or Dr. Charles. Or hell, Hank Voight. The entire team. Firehouse 51, they’ve all got you. We’re not goin’ away anytime soon. Let yourself feel the happy. Make the pain past tense. It’s in your heart. You just gotta let it take over.”

She just leans into me. We're silent for a bit, her tears soaking into my shirt where her face meets my shoulder. 

Her voice is fragile when she does speak, and I'm almost frustrated, wondering if anything's made an impact. 

"When's Kate coming?" 

“She’s getting food, and then she’s coming back,” I say. Sure, I’m frustrated. That’s allowed. But it’s not her fault. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m human. I want to fix her, I want to bandage her up and tell her she’s all better now, but it doesn’t work like that. I should know. 

I lean back with her, putting my arm around her. 

“Can you promise me something?”

"What is it?" She's wary. I would be too.

“No more attempts. Not today. Not today,” I say, emphasizing the last word. “And we’ll talk it through tomorrow. And the next day. But for today, no more tries.”

She hides her face in my shoulder. 

I can't tell what she's thinking. 

"I want to," she starts. "But I…. I can't promise it, Mouse." She's crying now. "I do it without thinking."

“Then… how about this. How about… how about we just sit here for a while?”

She nods, and hangs on to me for dear life. She says nothing, just clings to me. The door opens, though, and Kate is carrying about four bags of food from… I don’t know which of the dozens of restaurants she stopped at on the way here, but she looks at first concerned, and then relieved when she peeks into the bathroom. 

“I have food,” She says. “Wanna take this to the kitchen? Not sure the bathroom floor is a good place to eat Italian food.”

Kelley straightens a bit, swiping a hand over her eyes. It takes her a moment to stand, and she automatically hides her arm behind her back.

Kate ushers her in front of her, towards the kitchen, and Kelley swiftly moves her arm to avoid Kate’s gaze. She glances at me, then back to Kelley. 

I hold out a hand. It’s fine. She’s fine. She’s… she’s not fine, but we’re working on it. I help her up onto one of the barstools and I start opening Italian food containers. God, Kate went a little buckwild, but I’ll allow it for Kelley. Besides, there’s a fuckton of breadsticks, and in the middle of the emotional day and night, I let out an undignified giggle.

Kelley startles, but offers a tiny smile to me. It drops, and she focuses on the food in front of her. She picks at it, and says nothing more.

Kate returns from the bathroom. I know what she was doing. She was getting rid of anything and everything Kelley could use to hurt herself. There’s a few more places in the apartment, but we can catch them later. Right now, Kelley’s my focus. 

“Mouse took me to this restaurant on what, our sixth date?” Kate says, popping open a styrofoam container. “We were so out of place, we took it to go and brought it back to my apartment,” she says, spinning her spaghetti on a plastic fork. “He lit a candle. Turned out all the lights. It was better than the actual restaurant.”

Kelley cracks another smile, but her eyes are roving around the apartment.

“Alright, Kel, stop lookin’ for a way out,” I whisper. “You’re lookin’, and I know it. Now, I know I don’t look it, and I’ve been getting underestimated my entire life, but I was a Ranger. You make a run for it, I’ll take you down, and I’ll put you in a bear hug until you go ragdoll. Now, if you desperately want a hug from me that badly, you can just ask. But those are your options, kid.”

Her eyes flit up to me, and she actually giggles once. I think this one is real. She’s not thinking about it, so I think it’s real. I hope it’s real.

“Don’t egg him on,” Kate mutters, her mouth full. “He will. One time he nearly threw me over his shoulder…” As she drifts, I start to laugh, and she starts to turn red, shoveling more spaghetti in her mouth as she literally stands over the sink. 

“Irish Catholic doesn’t want to talk about sex,” I stage-whisper to Kelley. Kate flips me off, her fork still in her hand.

Kelley nods, her gaze going back to her plate. 

She sighs at the food.

Kate, in her own special way, grabs a breadstick and points it at Kelley. “Alright. You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. So let’s talk. Let’s talk about anything. Anything you want.”

“How ‘bout them Cubs?” I say, it coming out a little darker than I want, as I take a drink. 

Kelley lays down her fork and takes a breath. 

"I'm sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth. 

“For what?” Kate scoffs, her mouth full. “You ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

I chuckle. Maybe we’ve been around each other too long.

Kelley fumbles for her water, and downs half of it. She stares at the gauze on her wrist, and the words are lost again. 

"I wanted to die."

“You said wanted,” Kate whispers. Not one to ignore syntax, her. 

Kelley shrugs. "It varies from moment to moment." She half snorts, and I don't know why she thinks that was funny. "I do and I don't." Her eyes go to the balcony again.

“Doors are locked,” I whisper. “You run, I tackle you, bear hug. Next.”

“Alright. Why?” Kate asks. Kelley just peers at her, almost confused. “Why do you want to die?” She says simply. 

"I need this-" she slaps the side of her head with her hand. "I need to stop." Her breath comes quicker. "I need it to stop, to end."

“Need what, exactly?” Kate says. She’s so calm. She’s just eating her spaghetti, talking her best friend out of suicide.

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

Kelley lets her eyes close. 

"I can't  _ stop _ remembering it," she says. "I wasn't even awake." She scrubs her face with a hand before going back to picking at the gauze. "It doesn't stop. Ever. It just plays out like that stupid movie, over, and over and over again. Ends the same way every time."

“What was it,” Kate says. She’s pushing, but she’s not harsh. She’s trying to get Kelley to say it. 

Kelley's shaking now, and she shoves her chair back.

"Otis."

“Why does Otis’s death make you want to die?” Kate says, and I stand up, just far enough behind Kelley so she knows I’m still there but not feel overwhelmed. I want to be on my feet in case she goes. Whether she runs or goes down, I don’t know. 

Her voice is so quiet. I almost can't hear it. 

"It should have been me."

“Why?” Kate asks one more time. I’ve been at the mercy of her whys before. It hurt, but it led to the ring on her finger.

Kelley looks up at Kate, and her gaze is both filled with tears and anger, almost feral. 

"I was there. I'd laid my life down. I'd made that choice, Kate. And then he put himself between me and that boiler. He did that. He knew damn well what could happen and he pushed me out the door." She's on the edge of her seat, agitated, her hands clenching on the edge of the table.

“You both did,” she says simply. “You both did when you signed up for this. When you became firefighters. Do you think Otis would have tried to jump off the balcony if you had died instead?”

She  _ snaps _ . She's out of the chair and for the door. She’s fast, but I’m faster. With four steps, she’s barely made it to the door to the bathroom. I grab her from behind, pick her up, and head back down the hallway. 

She fights me. She's crying, and I'm pretty sure she's near exhausting her vocabulary. 

"Mouse, let go, please-"

I take her to the couch and sit down, bringing her head onto my shoulder as she sits on my lap. God, she’s tiny, but I don’t let her go as she squirms. 

“Told you. Tackle and bear hug. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

"Let me go, Greg," she cries into my shoulder, and she's shaking.

“I’m not going to do that. You know I’m not going to do that. I know what Kate’s doing, and you gotta let her. It worked for me,” I whisper. “Let her in, okay?”

"Fine-" she snaps. "He wouldn't have. But he wouldn't have been struggling with the guilt like I am. I am a guilty person, Gerwitz, and I feel it. I've felt it since- since that explosion threw me. Since Casey walked into my hospital room and told me that… that Otis had just died. I wasn't there. I never got a—a chance to thank him. But thank him for what?" 

She's angry. 

“Why are you guilty?” I whisper, letting Kate lurk somewhere behind. That’s fine. We can play good cop, bad cop. Kelley squirms a little, but her fight lessens. “Otis knew. Otis knew how you felt. He knew every day he woke up and went on a call with you. All of them feel the same. They’ve got your back, Kelley. Otis knew you had his.”

She stops fighting. "I was supposed to," she whispers. "And I couldn't save him. I couldn't do the one damn thing my job is, and I couldn't save him. I was supposed to have his back and I didn't! You know how I know? He's not here. He's not here. One of my best friends at 51, and I didn't- he- I was supposed to have his back."

“You did , though,” I say. “You had his back. I’m not going to say something dumb like ‘it was his time’, or that fucking bullshit. That’s not fair. You can’t blame yourself for fucking… fucking fate. Chance. That split second decision when he was just a tiny bit faster than you. That moment when you think you see something off in the distance and suddenly you’re waking up in a hospital with half your soul gone.”

I draw a quick breath. I got too close on that last one.

"Mouse, he… he had his whole life ahead of him," she forces out, out past the sob. "I don't. I'm just floating. I have nothing. I don't want it. He did. He had Molly's. He had so much. And now-" she breathes, and she exhales in half a cry.

“You do too!” Kate interjects, sitting on the coffee table. “You have your whole life ahead of you! You have Molly’s, and the firehouse, and Crockett, and us! You have our wedding! You have your wedding someday, Kelley! Your family! Your kids! You can’t… you can’t compare your worth to someone else. Everyone is priceless. Including you.”

She does cry then. 

"I miss him so goddamn  _ much _ ."

I hear a sob. Kate has started weeping. Just full on weeping. I have two weeping women on this couch with me and I don’t know what to do. And Kate cannot stop. I hold out my hand to her, and she just takes it.

Kelley's doubled over, and she reaches out to both of us. 

"I want him back," she sobs. "I need him back."

“I do too,” Kate says. “I do too, but we can’t, Kelley. And that’s why you can’t do this. I can’t lose you, too. I lost… I lost…” her lip quivers, and she looks at me, then closes her eyes like she can’t look at me when she says it. I know what she’s going to say. “I thought I lost Mouse. I thought he was gone forever. And that absolutely wrecked me. If you… if… if you do what you keep trying to do, I won’t be able to take it. We’ll be here, we’ll be without you, and I can’t do it. I refuse. I can’t do it. I can’t… I can’t do it.”

Kelley grabs on to us, and she just…. She starts wailing. All the pain, the guilt, the anger, it's all coming out now. 

She's shaking, and she just screams. 

In the midst, I hear "Help me."

I just pull her into me, tighter, and Kate comes in closer, hugging her too.

“We’re trying,” Kate murmurs, brushing Kelley’s hair from her face. “We’re trying.”

"Make the noise stop," she whimpers as the tears still stream. "I need the noise to stop. I need to not hear the explosion. I still hear it."

“I don’t know how to make the noise stop,” Kate says, she whispers, “But we could always make the love louder.”

And there’s the tears. She said that to me once. After a nightmare. A year ago, at least. God, Kate. It’s always Kate. Too fucking stubborn to let a broken person go. She’s always got to be the one to pick up the pieces. Good thing she loves puzzles.

The violent sobs morph into steady tears that morph into hiccups, and Kelley just ragdolls.

I run my hand over her back, in circles, until her breathing levels.

“Okay, Kelley. We’re gonna have to talk a little, okay?” I whisper. She just nods. “Now, Kate struck up a deal with Dr. Charles. You don’t have to stay with him. You can stay with us. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be much different than at Gaffney. You’re gonna stay with us for now. For as long as you need. And you’re gonna hate it. Because we’re gonna be watching you the entire time. You know why, don’t you?”

She nods, and the tears leak from her eyes. 

“And trust me. It’s gonna fucking suck,” I say. “You’re gonna hate me by the time it’s done. But I’ll take it. I’d rather you be here willingly than forced to stay at Gaffney, and then not be able to go back to active duty. That’s what you want, right?”

"Just don't make me go to Gaffney," she whispers, and her hand tightens ever so slightly on mine.

“We won’t. You do have to understand that it’s either here or Gaffney, though,” I say.

"Here," she says, and she finally looks me in the eye, and then Kate.

“Good,” Kate says, wiping her eyes. “The guest room is ready for you. I want you to actually get some sleep.”

She nods distractedly, her eyes glazing over as she stares off into nothing. 

“You wanna stay up for a while instead?” I ask, brushing her hair back. 

"Yeah," she breathes. "Yeah."

I keep running circles over her back, leaving her on my lap. Kate doesn’t mind. I don’t either. I’m not letting her go anywhere.

Kelley speaks again, her voice near a whisper. 

The look on her face says she's halfway down the guilt train again.

"Jay was crying," she says, and I can hear her mentally beating herself up about it. "Jay and "Kett." She's crying, thinking about it. "I fucked up."

“You’re hurting. You made a bad decision, that’s all. But you fixed it. You’re getting help,” I say. “Jay and Crockett are worried about you, because they love you, okay?”

"It scares me how much I wanted it," she says, burying her face in my shoulder again. "I wanted it, and I was willing to sit on the railing and tip off." 

Her breath evens out, and I know she's calming down. "I'm gonna be trapped here, aren't I?" She asks wryly. 

“Trapped in my grip? Yeah, for a little while,” I say. Kate smacks me. “Oh. Literal and figurative. You mean here? Listen, ‘trapped’ is not the right word. We have better WIFI than Gaffney--”

“Better food,” Kate interjects. 

“Better food, and better TV,” I continue. “Definitely better beds. Better… people?”

Kate waves her hand back and forth in a so-so motion.

“I’m gonna see if Dr. Charles will come over tomorrow to talk to you,” Kate says. She’s finally gone back to the kitchen and is shoving a breadstick in her mouth. 

“Regardless, you’re going to be here until you’re safe again, okay?”

Kelley starts muttering into my shoulder.

I lift up her chin so she has to speak directly to me.

"Maybe it shouldn't be Dr. Charles," she says, her voice wobbling. 

“Why not?” Kate says, mouthful of bread. “He’s helped the both of us. He’s helped a lot of first responders before you. He’s a good guy.”

“I wouldn’t be alive without him,” I whisper to her.

She sighs. "I know. But… but I work alongside him, remember? It was a conflict of interest for Will and Jay to even bring him in." She looks forlorn.

“Then we’ll get you someone from East Mercy,” Kate says. “Whatever works. But Dr. Charles… he’ll still come over if you want. As a friend.”

She nods, still unsure. Still picking at the gauze. "It itches, I want to do it again," she mutters, and I don't think she meant to say it out loud.

“You can’t. Nothing left to use,” I say matter of factly. She glares at me, and tries to use her nails. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” I whisper, pulling her hands and taking them in mine. “Hey. None of that. Okay?” Look at me. Look at me. You don’t have to do that.”

Her hands try to rip from mine. "Mouse, let me-"

“Look at me. Look at me now. Give me your hands. Look at me.”

Her eyes come up to mine, the desperation murky in them. Her hands clench into shaking fists.

“Listen to me, Kelley. Listen. If this were successful-- if you were successful-- what the hell are you going to say to Otis when you see him again?”

She stops fighting again with a sob, and buries her face in my shoulder, trembling. 

“I can tell you what he’d say,” Kate says, between her own sobs. “‘The hell are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be here yet! What happened? You… you…” Kate descends again to the floor. I can’t go to her, and I know she knows that. But the tears keep coming. “He was supposed to save me a dance,” she mutters. “Kelley, I can’t… I need you at my wedding, okay? At our wedding. Otis can’t be there. So you have to be. And… and what happens when we have kids? I can’t handle them on my own,” she says, chuckling, almost manic. “They’re gonna be insane. What if I have a son who--who wants to be a firefighter? Like hell am I gonna trust anyone but… but you and maybe Herrmann to take him under your wing. I need you for that shit. I need you… I need you, okay? I just need you. And you may not think so and you might think you’re expendable, and you may think you’re not worth shit, but I need you, okay? I need you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Kelley lets out a quiet "fuck," at Kate's words, and she curls into me, the sobs making her shake. 

She's clinging to me, and I know Kate's gotten through. I've gotten through. We've gotten through. 

I thank God Kate said it. If I did, I don’t think I would have gotten through. 

Thank God for Kate’s Irish stubbornness.

Kelley finally looks up, eyes red, face blotchy. 

She draws in a shaky breath.

"I want to live," she says, voice faltering, but pushing through nonetheless. 

She burrows into my shoulder, muttering to herself. I hear things she says, but I don't dare ask. Not even when I hear the smallest, "how can I protect 'Kett like this, without him?" She takes another heavy breath, and… and she might now be asleep. I sit there, running circles over her back, until I’m sure.

Kate looks at me, tears in her eyes. 

"What the fuck, Mouse?"

I don’t want to move because Kelley is finally asleep. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“This… this bad?” she scoffs. “You make it sound like she took a hit at a hockey game or something. Mouse, she was going to kill herself! At least three visible times since this afternoon!”

“I know. I know, babe. You know full well we ain’t gonna let her stay at Gaffney.”

“Oh, that’s no question,” Kate says, starting to pace. “I’m not a mental health professional, though. And neither are you.”

“She’s gonna go to East Mercy. You said Dr. Charles would stop by.”

“I know, but like, dude. What if she tries again?”

“Then we stop her,” I say, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“And what if she tries again?””

“We stop her,” I repeat.

“And what if--”

“We stop her.”

The anxiety Kate gives off starts to fade. Or at least change. She’s just too damn logical and stubborn to work past it in her head, and the logic circles are the only way to wind her out. 

“Okay. Okay. Okay, okay. Okay. We can do this, but she’s gotta play too.”

“She will,” I say. “I think we got through to her.”

“You did,” Kate croaks. She’s about to cry again. “I found… found your watch in the bathroom. Did you…”

“I showed her,” I say quietly. I’m not proud of it. But she needed to see it. 

“You said you would never show anyone ever again,” Kate gently accuses. 

“Kelley needed to see it more than I needed to hide it,” I say. God, she’s so tiny. How did she pass the firefighter’s test? She’s child-sized. Oh. Oh.

I start giggling and I can’t stop.

“What the fuck, Mouse?” She says again.

“Did we just adopt a child?” I ask, chuckling quietly. 

Kate peers at the sleeping Kelley, the gauze on her wrist. “There’s only one problem with her.”

“Only one?”

She tilts her head. “Blonde.”

I try to stop my laughing, but the stress of the day just washes over the two of us. We both know what we’re going to do. There was no question. We’re going to do exactly what we told Kelley. She’s gonna stay with us. As long as she needs. And we’re gonna get her help. And we’re gonna watch her. Make sure she stays okay. I’ll deal with okay. 

“I’ll take first watch,” I murmur, turning on the TV and pressing mute. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll take her to bed eventually,” I say. “She’s fine here for now.”

Kate nods. “Yeah. Okay. I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. 4 a.m.?”

“I’ll turn on  _ Always Sunny _ . The subtitles are fucking hilarious.”

She reaches down and kisses me. She kisses me long.

“You’re gonna make a great dad.”

I choke up a little as my fiancee—my wife, soon—heads to bed. I cradle our best friend in my arms. 

I wish I could change the circumstances for Kelley, but I can always try my fucking hardest to help her change them for herself. 

I check my watch that Kate brought to me. It ticks over to midnight.

“Not today, Kelley. Not today. Tomorrow.”


	6. We rise and we fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One. Kate and Kelley start the day with the Cavanagh spread, but it leads to additional chaos when Dr. Marcel and Dr. Charles try to come over. Regardless, Kelley starts to learn that she's not alone and she has plenty to live for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... this turn out longer than we intended?  
Started as maybe two, three paragraphs each and then it just... exploded. We're not sorry.

**June 26, 2019  
** **0814 Hours**  
**1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago  
** **Kate**

** _Day 1_ **

Four a.m. came fairly quickly. That’s fine, though. I’ll accept it. I’m going to do it. Besides, like Mouse said, we could prepare for kids. 

I’m hoping he actually got some sleep. I know that this was rough on him, too. It was rough on all of us. But we’re all going to be okay. 

I brew the second pot of coffee. I know we have the possibility of it being a rough day, but we’re going to treat it like a good day. 

At least the sun is up. 

And we made it to the dawn.

But I’m waxing philosophical again. Might be the sheer amount of coffee. I shouldn’t be drinking this much coffee. I gave it up. But you know what? I’ll let myself slip this once. 

I eye the time on the microwave. I don’t care. I’m going to let her sleep. I’m going to let him sleep. I’ll let the silence envelope me for once. 

"....Kate?" Kelley stares at me blearily from the doorway. She rubs her eyes, trying to focus. 

She stumbles into the kitchen making grabby hands at the coffee.

I immediately find the Chicago PD seal mug that Mouse had to have stolen from the precinct from the cabinet, and pour her a full cup of coffee. 

“Mornin’,” I say over the mug. “Notice I didn’t say ‘good’, because no mornings are good.” In fact, I chug. It is decidedly unpleasant, but black coffee is a need, not a choice.

She sips at it, and blinks again, like she's trying to blink herself awake.

"Mornings suck," she agrees seriously. 

“I have an idea,” I say conspiratorially. “I’ve never cooked you a Cavanagh spread, have I?”

Her head tilts, and she looks at me quizzically. 

"Cavanagh spread?" 

I give her a smile and immediately head back to the fridge. I unload everything: bacon, sausages. I don’t really have what I need for white pudding, but that’s fine. Eggs… oh, pancakes. Baked beans and boxty. But the time I unload everything onto the counter, Kelley’s looking at me, the quizzical look shifting to concern.

“What?” I shrug. “Listen, if Mouse wakes up to the smell of bacon, you’re gonna see a whole different person, trust me.”

She giggles, just a bit, eyes roving over the counter. 

"The hell you doing, Kate?" She asks as she pulls up a chair to watch. 

“Aww, yeah,” I say, cracking my knuckles. “I’m hungry. I’m very hungry, Kelley. Okay. So. Starting with the meats. They’ll take the longest.” I get them ready in the pans, and already the sizzling makes my stomach growl. Once they’re ready to go, I focus on the boxty. “Right. So. Boxty. Irish recipe, right?” I find the hash browns from the bag. Good enough. “Potatoes. Flour in a bowl.” I go hunting in the cabinets. I do what I told her I was going to, then find the leftover mashed potatoes from the other night and slam them into the bowl, leaving a little poof of flour. It gets on my tank top, but I don’t care. 

“Alright. They tell you usually to do this in a separate bowl, but separate bowls are for quitters. Egg, skim milk.” I crack the egg on the counter, then find the skim milk. I don’t have a lot—I had a hankering for boxty the other day, and hadn’t had the chance to make it—and estimate the bit I need in the recipe. “Measurements are for quitters, too.”

Kelley laughs finally. "And you don't quit." She peers into the bowl and then looks at me. "Anything I can do?" She asks, her hands everywhere. 

I immediately hand her the bowl and a whisk. “Go to fuckin’ town, my dude.”

I check the meats, and have to resist the urge to steal a piece of bacon. It’s not done. But it smells so damn good. 

I look back to Kelley. 

She's focused on the bowl. She's trying to whisk it, and she's having issues. She giggles every time the bowl slips. 

"I'm Bobby Flay," she mutters and pulls a snobby face. 

I can’t handle her. I almost drop, my hands barely making it to the counter to support myself. I snort, afraid I’m going to wake up Mouse for a second. Once I recover, I gesture to her. “Set it… set it on the counter, and then hold the bowl,” I say. “There you go. Put a dash or two of salt and pepper in there.” I push the shakers towards her, and then search for the can of baked beans. “Beans, beans…” I mutter under my breath, trying to find it on the counter. “I know I brought you out…”

Kelley's struggles with the bowl are punctuated by laughs as she continues to goof around. 

"Okay I did it!" She says as she downs the rest of her coffee. "Now what?" She eyes the bacon. 

“Bacon isn’t done yet. I know. I’m angry about it. I’m working on it. Okay. Let me…’ I look for a plate, and I wipe one off from inside the sink. I set it in front of her. “Make patties about… eh, McDonald’s hash brown sized? Just set them on the plate and I’ll start the oil.”

She's mashing the damn patties like a third grader with mud pies. And she's giggling. She doesn't stop. She's just perpetually giggling. Like a maniac.

"Like-" she snorts. "Like this?"

“Exactly like that,” I say, giggling along with her. I can’t. I can’t with her, and that’s… that’s fine. In the year since we met… she started a lot with the giggling. Some of that has changed of late. And I see why. Sometimes, even the people who laugh the most are the ones in the most pain. Still. She’s finding joy in the fucking boxty, and if her playing with the potatoes like they’re play-dough while she’s hopped up on coffee makes her laugh, I know it’s something I can remind her of later. “Where are the fucking baked beans?” I mutter. 

She pauses. "Kate. In your hand."

I eye the can in my hand. Well, there’s that. I show her the lid of the baked bean can. “Thick and rich. Like I like my men.”

She chokes on air, and turns away. "I can't with you!" She squeals, giggling.

“And to think, Mouse is neither thick nor rich,” I muse, opening the can with the can opener. I dump it into the pan I have waiting for me, and check the meats one more time. They’re coming along, so we have to hurry up. Another pan, and I fill it with oil to start the boxty. I nearly burn my fingers putting them in without a utensil. 

“What else did I say? Eggs. You want pancakes?"

She looks suddenly hungry.

“Pancakes it is,” I say, finding the Bisquick, and milk, and the vanilla. Eggs are out. “I need… another bowl. You want to whisk again?”

She jumps at it. "Hell yes." She makes grabby hands for the bowl. I tap the whisk onto the sink, tapping off the boxty, then shrug. We could use some potato in the pancakes. It’s fine. “How many pancakes? And how do you like your eggs?”

She answers the first question with a haunted look and an overdramatic, "all." She shrugs. "Eggs however the fuck you want, I'm over easy."

“Sweet. I can handle this,” I say, although her mood is starting to scare me a little. I’ve never dealt with this before. Well, that’s unfair. I’ve helped Mouse. I shouldn’t sell myself short. But still, he never reacted quite like this. I think it’s better I don’t say anything, though. Let her enjoy the brief respite. The moments of peace. 

When I dump the Bisquick unceremoniously into the bowl, it poofs up like the flour. 

Kelley's…. What. 

She's bouncing around, chanting "eggs" with a varying degree of pitch, but the same amount of manic energy. 

I shake my head, still giggling. I am right. She needs this. This is the old Kelley. This is the one I met at 51. And maybe it’s selfish, but I needed it. I need it.

I add milk into the bowl, and crack a few eggs, and I think it looks close to what it should be. I throw a dash of vanilla in for good measure. 

“Kel, do you want to mix this?” I say, showing her the whisk.

She freezes, her hand halfway to a piece of bacon. "Yep!"

I smack it with the handle of the spatula. “No. Raw meat. You’ll get sick, and if you vomit in front of Mouse, he’ll start sympathy puking. It’s a thing. Whisk the pancakes,” I order, moving the bacon and sausage to one pan and turning down the heat. I pull the griddle out from underneath the oven and set it on the counter, readying it for the pancakes.

“Why do I hear a child’s voice chanting about eggs?” 

I look in the hallway, and Mouse wanders out, in his worn, faded Chicago Cubs t-shirt and basketball shorts. His hair sticks up the back as he rubs his eyes. 

Kelley is whisking madly. "Eggs," she says under her breath, nearly squeaking. 

Mouse blinks tiredly. Sure, the night was long. And he’s glancing at her, still concerned, but he’s also just as tired as I am and heads for the cupboard. “Where’s my mug?” He mutters. 

Kelley whisks harder, face suddenly sheepish. "Eggs," she says softly as she looks up at Mouse. 

I keep checking the boxty and beans and meats, and then look to Kelley. “Chocolate chip pancakes?” I suggest. 

I see Mouse glance at the mug, sitting near Kelley, and he smirks a little, grabbing a UIC one instead. “I see we’re working on the Cavanagh Spread this morning?”

Kelley nods manically. "Eggs!" She crows, waving her hands in the air.

I gesture with my spatula. “I don’t know. I think she’s turned into an egg type Pokemon.”

Mouse literally snorts his coffee, coughing until he can recover. 

“Do you want chocolate chip pancakes?” I ask him, since Kelley can only say ‘eggs’ at this point. “That’s a stupid question,” I realize. “You always do. Check the boxty?”

He gives me a tired smile. My heart practically melts, especially when he brushes past me and gives me a quick kiss. He takes over checking the boxty, and I reach out to Kelley for the bowl of pancake batter.

She hands it over mournfully. 

She even pouts as she watches me. 

I start pouring them into medium sized pancakes on the griddle as I talk. “Okay, Kelley, we have two options. Either we make some over easy eggs, or we can do scrambled, and you can smash them to smithereens.” 

Kelley looks at me seriously until a manic giggle pops out of her. "Scrambled," she calls. "Like my brains!"

“Thought so,” I say, “Just watch for eggshells, alright?” I say, handing her yet another bowl. Eh, same whisk is fine. I put a splash of milk already in the bowl as I push the eggs towards her. “I’m trusting that scrambled brain of yours with these eggs, alright?”

She eyes the eggs as if she has a personal vendetta. Who am I to talk? Maybe she does. 

She smashes the first one, and she loses it. She's giggling hard enough to hang onto the counter. 

I glance to Mouse, and he’s flipping pancakes, his hair, still bed head, as he manhandles a cup of coffee. He squints a little at Kelley’s freak out, like a white suburban dad trying to regain some semblance of normalcy.

It’s a good look for him, if I could admit it.

I run checks, and start pulling out hot pads for everything. Meats are done, boxty is done, baked beans are done, pancakes are nearly there, and I find the last pan I think we own for the eggs. “You about done, Kel?”

She nods. "Eeeeeegggggssss," she croons lovingly.

I shake my head, laughing, as I grab for the bowl and dump the entire mess into the last pan. “Pancakes?” I point at Mouse, and he’s nearly done flipping like a pro. 

I try not to ignore the moment. It’s so easy for us to forget the good sometimes. The good doesn’t have to be sweeping moments of grandeur. Sometimes it’s just making breakfast after a rough night. 

I go to fill Kelley’s mug, and Mouse holds my hand and the carafe back. “Nah, I’m cutting Egg-woman off. She’s had enough.”

“Then that’s your problem, not mine,” I grumble, checking the eggs again. 

Kelley mock glares at Mouse. "You touch my coffee I'll blast you with the firehose."

“I’ll take you on,” he mutters over his own coffee. “I did the Nasty Nick in--”

“We all know you did the Nasty Nick in a snowstorm!” I say, exasperated. “You remind us any time you can! We know you’re capable of kicking our asses, and thank you for your service, Specialist, but stand the fuck down! Let her have her coffee! She is the eggman!”

“I am the walrus, coo-coo-ka-chu,” he mutters, topping off her mug reluctantly. With that, all of the food sits on the counter, and I find plates. We would do better with platters, but that’s okay. When I turn around Kelley is reaching ever slowly for a piece of bacon. 

“Not yet,” I say, wielding a spatula. 

She pouts. "It's not raw this time," she argues hotly. "I won't cause sympathy pukes!"

I reach out for her hand, waiting for her to put hers in mine. Mouse takes mine quickly, looping around so he can take Kelley’s. 

Kelley relaxes, and almost hums happily. 

I close my eyes and for some reason, only one prayer comes to mind. 

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

Mouse whispers ‘amen’, and I cross myself. He glances at me, mirroring me. He’s relearning. He gives me a smirk.

Kelley quickly crosses herself, and she stares off into the distance for a moment, but quickly reaches for the bacon. 

"Eggs," she mutters again as she lovingly fondles the bacon. 

I pour a decent third of the bacon-- and it’s probably a pound, I didn’t check-- on Kelley’s plate. Mouse nearly falls over me to get to the boxty. I’ve converted him, so it seems. 

Kelley is practically making love to her bacon. She drains half her coffee before finally going for the actual eggs. 

I’m glad she’s eating. She’s doing much better in that respect than last night. And from what I could tell, she slept. I’m hoping she got past the hardest hurdle last night. 

We’ll help her over the rest. 

I pile my own plate and finally check my phone. There’s a text— Dr. Marcel. I don’t know him as well as I should, but he’s a good friend to Kelley, and that makes him a friend of mine. 

_ Hey, Kate. Kelley doing okay? I'll be over around 9 to drop some stuff off for her.  _

I text him back quickly. S _ he’s a bit manic, but it’s fine. She’s just beating up foodstuffs. I figure it’s innocuous, but we’re watching her. If you hurry, you can catch some breakfast.  _

_ Thanks but I'll pass. I have shift later, so I'll be by soon. _

I send him the thumbs up emoji. 

Kelley is plowing through her plate, and drains the rest of her coffee. She holds out the mug with a tired but angelic smile. "More please." She eyes the coffee hungrily.

Mouse looks to me, then back to Kelley, and then back to me. With a sigh, like a defeated father, he fills up her mug another time.

She practically stuffs her face into her mug. "Tank oo," can be heard, muffled behind the mug.

I shove as much food as I can into my mouth. I know enough about situations that I’m afraid this could go wrong fast, and with Crockett on his way, the variables could shift faster than I ever anticipate. Mouse sees it too, and he starts doing the same. Must be the military still ingrained in us. 

There’s a knock on the door.

Kelley freezes. 

"Who's that?"

“Dr. Marcel, probably,” I say, picking up a piece of bacon and heading for the door. “Is that okay? He’s bringing you some stuff from home.”

She shoves the chair back, going back into the kitchen.

"I can't."

Mouse takes her to the couch, pulling her down onto the seat, whispering to her. All I can hear is “you don’t have to”.

I head to the door. I knew the bubble would pop at some point, but that’s fine. We can handle it. I just hope Dr. Marcel can. When I open the door, he just looks… tired.

"Hi, Kate," he says as he tries to look past me. "Where is she?"

“She’s with Mouse in the living room,” I say, glancing back. “When I told her you were here, she… she freaked a little. I don’t know… I think she’s afraid of facing you, to be honest.”

The hurt washes over his face, settling in his eyes. But he's not giving up yet. 

"Can I at least see her?"

“I can ask,” I say. “But don’t be surprised if she says no.” I head down the hallway, leaning into the living room. “Kelley? Dr. Marcel wants to see you. Is that okay?”

She clings to Mouse, and just bursts out, "No!"

“Can I tell him a message, at least?” I say quietly. I know how this is. I know how it goes. He’ll be upset, but it’s fine. He’ll have to understand.

"I'm sorry."

“No reason for you to apologize,” Mouse says almost without thinking. “You do what’s best for you.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, heading back to the door. Dr. Marcel looks despondent.

“She just says she’s sorry,” I say, taking the bag he brought. “Maybe try tomorrow.”

His face falls, and he nods. I try not to look at the dull hurt in his eyes. 

"Just… take care of her," he says softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“I’ll keep you updated, okay?” I whisper. I hear Kelley’s soft crying from the living room.

He looks past me again, and I know he hears it too. 

"Yeah…" he mutters. "Yeah. Thanks."

When he starts to turn away, I can’t let him go. Not like this. “Hey, Crockett?”

He turns away, the faint shadow of sudden hope in his eyes, even with the pain. "Yeah?"

I pull him into a hug. “Thanks. For everything you’ve done. And everything you’re doing.”

His hands come up hesitantly before resting on my shoulders as he leans into the hug. 

"Thank you for this," he whispers. "It kills me to see her hurting and I couldn't… I couldn't do what you're doing." His voice is tired and cracking.

“I think you could,” I whisper. “People can do amazing, unbelievable things for the people they love.”

"She's my sister," he says softly. "Maybe I could. I have… maybe. Thank you." He pulls away, his hands going back into his pockets. "Keep me posted, Kate," he says softly.

“I will,” I tell him. 

He walks off slowly down the hall. He still looks defeated, but I hope it’ll change. He needs some hope, I think. I don’t like the angle of his shoulders as of late. 

I get into my phone contacts and hover over Dr. Charles’s number. Not the office number. His cell number. I can hear her crying still. 

I call him. I step out into the hallway before he picks up.

_ “Kate,”  _ he says quietly.  _ “How’s Kelley?” _

“We had a bit of a manic situation this morning, and Dr. Marcel just came over and dropped off some of her things. She, uh, she didn’t want to see him. Any way you could stop by sometime today?”

_ “I can be over in a half-hour.” _

“I think that would be a good idea,” I say. “Thanks, Dr. Charles.”

_ “Always, Kate.” _

I head back inside, taking a breath. Just a moment. One moment, and I can get back to it. Two breaths. I’m ready for it now.

Kelley clings to Mouse, her head buried in his chest. 

"Is he gone?" She sobs.

“He left,” I say, holding her bag. “He brought you some stuff. He’s gonna check in with us later. Hey, Mouse?” 

“Yep?” He says, pulling her a little closer. “What’s up?”

“Dr. Charles is going to stop by,” I say. 

"Why?" Kelley murmurs. She still won't look up, and her hands are both trapped in Mouse's. "Why are people coming when I'm a mess and I don't necessarily want them to see?"

“Because they love you and care about you, and they want to check in on you,” I say. 

She's still. 

"I love them," she murmurs, and leans into Mouse. 

"When's he coming?"

“About a half hour,’ I say. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but she needs to talk to him. We can only do so much.

She nods. "I hate this," she says softly, muffled.

“I know you do,” Mouse says. “I do too.”

I head back to the kitchen, leaving those two alone. They can have their moment. Mouse understands it more than I ever could. And as I put food away, and start the dishwasher, I can hear him whispering to her. Something about today, and tomorrow, and it fills me with a bit of comfort. 

After a bit, Kelley pads into the kitchen and hugs me. 

"Angel," she sniffs. 

“Oh,” I say, hugging her back after a moment. “What…. what brought on that?” 

"Love you," she shrugs into the hug. "You an' Mouse doing this."

I pull her close. “When Mouse was going through his shit, I talked to Dr Charles about it. About what I would do if I were in his place. He said… he said don’t consider what he deserves. Consider what I would want from him if I were in his place. And he said that he needed me the most when he didn’t want me to be there. He may not acknowledge it, and he may yell and scream and fight, but deep down, he wanted me to be there, and he needed me to be there. And it may not get into his brain until much, much later, but it’ll eventually sink in. That I was there for him. That we’re here for you.”

She nods, as if considering it. She steps away and refills her coffee mug. 

"You're here," she repeats before disappearing back to the living room.

She settles back on the couch, glaring anxiously at the clock. Her mug sits in her hands, slightly jostled by her bouncing leg. If looks could kill, the clock would be dead by now. 

I toss Mouse a towel for the moment when Kelley ends up spilling her coffee. I hated that couch anyway. Maybe if she spills it, I can con Mouse into buying a new couch.

Suicide attempts, new couches. I hate how commonplace it feels, but I’m glad I’ve been through it before. Picking us was about the smartest thing Kelley could have done. Something put her at 51. I know who did. 

I find myself grasping at the cross at my neck, and there’s a knock on the door. Kelley yelps as the coffee splashes over, and she glares at the door. 

"Mouse," she says softly. "Stay?"

“Anything you want,” he says. My heart nearly drops. I remember the feeling. I remember being the same thing for Mouse as he is for Kelley now. I’m glad she has him. 

I go to the door and silently let Dr. Charles inside. It’s different without his white coat. It feels… safer. Quieter. When he comes in, Kelley is nearly on Mouse’s lap again. He sits down in the armchair next to them, just waiting. Kelley doesn't look at him, instead studying the floor. 

"Hey, Dr. Charles," she murmurs. "Good… good to see you."

“Hey, Kelley,” he says in his typical jovial yet quiet voice. “How are you doing?”

She shrugs. "Alive, apparently," she wisecracks, drawling it out with a sarcastic wave of her hand. 

“That is, generally, the goal,” Dr. Charles says. I lurk behind, sitting on one of the barstools, nursing my coffee. I muse, for a second, about slipping in some Baileys, but I decide it to be unwise. 

“So, Kelley. How you doin’ here? How are things at the Cavanagh-Gerwitz household?”

“You can just say Gerwitz,” I automatically intervene. “It’s gonna be Gerwitz anyway.”

Mouse perks up. “You’re takin’ my name?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say, over the rim of my mug. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh,” he whispers. “Oh, that’s… that’s fine. I didn’t think you would.”

“Still got it,” I say, giving him a wink.

Kelley snorts a laugh into Mouse's shoulder. "Yeah alright Mom, alright Dad, you can stop being mushy." She looks at Dr. Charles finally. "It's okay here. It's good." 

She leans back into the couch, having said her piece.

“Good! And you had breakfast? Still smells like bacon in here.”

Kelley turns her face into the couch, giggling. 

"There were a lot of fuckin' eggs."

“Aw, yeah,” Dr. Charles says. “Love me some over easy. Did you at least get some hash browns?”

“We eat boxty in this house,” I add.

Kelley is still giggling and snorting. She grasps Mouse's hand. 

"I went a little crazy," she hiccups. 

“Good crazy,” Mouse adds. “She had fun scrambling eggs. And the boxty. And the pancakes,” he realizes.

There's a snort, and Kelley smiles, bursting into tears. 

“Good!” Dr. Charles says. “Kelley, do you feel safe here?”

Mouse’s smile falls a few teeth, but he clutches tightly to her. 

Kelley stares at Dr. Charles for what feels like forever before nodding, tears still streaming. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Kelley,” he says softly. 

"It's rough," she mutters. "One minute I'm fine, the next I'm on hyperdrive, and then the next I want to die." 

She lays her head on Mouse's shoulder. "I've already tried twice."

He just nods. “Okay. Let’s talk through it. We’re here for you. And we’re listening.”

She shrugs. "I don't know how to explain it," she says, her voice getting quieter and quieter. "I'm fine and then I'm not. I'll be normal and then I'll be ready to run for it, or something else. Like the bed sheets."

I can see her hands shaking. Her leg is bouncing again, and she's laser-focused on the floor. 

“Okay. How can we help to make you not feel that way?” He says. 

She's ready to bolt. She's thinking about it. Her hand reaches out for Mouse, and her feet lower to the floor. 'I'm going to run' her action says, 'but don't let me do it.' 

“Kelley, c’mere,” Mouse says, gesturing for her to join his embrace. I very gently set down my coffee cup on the counter. She leans into him, and her arms come up to wrap around him. 

"Don't let go, don't let me go, don't let me go," she chants quietly, tears falling.

“I won’t,” he says, drawing circles over her back. I smile. That’s my husband. Well, soon. “I won’t let you go. None of us will.”

Dr. Charles gets up to sit over by me. “How are you doing?”

“Doing our best,” I whisper. “It’s hard. It’s damn hard. Both seeing her like this and going through it again. But I’ll do it. I’ll do it for as long as she needs.”

“I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed,” he says. “If you need help, if you need her admitted, will you tell me?”

“She won’t need it.”

“But in case she does—“

“She won’t need it,” I repeat. 

He frowns, but it turns into a sad smile as he watches her. He looks back to me. 

"You realize this isn't completely legal." 

He brushes a hand to my shoulder. 

"Still, if you need help-"

“She knows where she can get it,” I say. “Us. You. Everyone. She knows.”

He nods. 

Kelley is still snuggling into Mouse, and her tears have slowed down. 

"Dr. Charles?" Kelley looks up finally. 

“Yes, dear?” He seems to let slip. 

"Thanks for caring," she says. She slowly gets up and leans over to hug him.

“Hey. You’re family,” he says, leaning into the hug. “You know, whatever you need, we’re here.”

I don’t know if it’s helping. But I sure as hell know she’s not getting any worse. And I’m okay with not worse. 

She nods. "Thanks for letting me go with Kate and Mouse," she says as she relaxes a bit into the hug. 

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’d rather you heal with family than alone in a hospital,” he whispers. “No one deserves to be alone. Especially in times like this.”

She nods, and she hiccups a bit. "Thank you…." She lets her eyes close for a moment. 

“You’re gonna be okay, Kelley,” he whispers. It’s almost a prayer. This isn’t coming from the head of psychiatry. This is from a friend. A father figure. I smile. I’ve been there. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” He says, holding her at arm's length. “Just checking in. And we’ll get you with your therapist at East Mercy, okay? Sound good to you?”

She nods, and she flashes him a small smile. 

"Thanks," she says, hugging him quickly once more. 

I think she playfully mutters "...Dad," but I can't be sure. 

“I thought Greg was your dad,” he says. “I’m a …. crazy uncle, at the most.” 

I let out a giggle, and the tension slides away. I finish off the rest of my coffee. 

It’s going to be a good day. We’re going to make it a good day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straight catharsis.
> 
> So much.


	7. When we laugh, when we cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2. Kelley wakes up once more, alive, at the Gerwitz-Cavanagh household, only to realize that Dr. Marcel is coming—and she has to talk to him. But even in the pain and suffering Kelley has faced in the last weeks, she starts to learn that joy is simple, and that joy is attainable, especially when multiple languages and the possibility of physical injury is involved.

**June 27, 2019** **   
** **0956 Hours** **   
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago** **   
** **Kelley**

** _Day 2_ **

I find myself blinking awake, and I take a moment to breathe. Still a bit disorienting when I wake up in a bed that's not mine. I stumble into the hallway, and I unceremoniously run straight into the wall.

“You good?” I hear Mouse say. He’s bleary-eyed, standing in the kitchen, drinking more coffee. “No stubbed toes?”

I peel myself from the wall and shoot him a look. 

"Fine," I mutter, and I hop onto the counter to pull a mug down. Mouse immediately fills my mug. He left me the Chicago PD seal mug. 

“Kate went out for rations, you want anything in particular?” He says. I can see, as he brushes his hair back, the light scars on his wrist. 

I shrug. "I'll eat anything. Except sunflower seeds." I don't stare at the scars but I do see them.

Absentmindedly, he scratches them, and continues. “We’re thinkin’ pizza and movies today. Got any in mind?”

"Never seen  _ Mission: Impossible _ , honestly," I say as I think of the healing cut on my own wrist. I chug the coffee, and refill it.

Mouse immediately shifts. He’s stuttering again. It’s…. endearing, maybe? “I’m sorry, what the fuck! How old are you? Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know the answer. We have to start from the beginning. We need to start immediately.”

I giggle, and I drain my coffee again. My throat is burning, but coffee is a need. I reach for the pot again. 

“We should probably wait for Kate, yeah?” He says. “Probably a good idea. Yeah. Oh, hang on.” He checks his phone. “Oh. Kate said she heard from Dr. Marcel, wants to come over. Is that okay with you?”

I swallow nervously. "Okay," I say. "Mouse you gotta- I can't face-"

“I ain’t leavin’,” he says over his mug. It’s a matter of fact statement. Not emotional. Just a fact. 

I nod. I take a breath, and then another. And another. I need a few more. "Okay. Yeah."

“He just wants to see you,” he says softly. “No preconceived notions or ulterior motives. He just wants to see you.”

The door opens and Kate struggles in with about 37 bags. “Babe, you should have texted me—“

“Too proud, too stubborn,” she says, dumping it on the floor of the kitchen and popping back up, blowing her hair from her face. “Mornin’, Kelley!”

"Hey, Kate," I say. "Is…. Is he on the way over?" 

I grip the edge of the counter as I focus on my breaths.

“He’s on his way, yeah,” Kate says, unloading groceries. Mouse starts putting stuff away. It’s so domestic. It makes me almost sick. “Just got off shift so, I don’t know how long he’ll stay. Movies? What movies today?”

"Mouse is having an aneurysm that I haven't seen  _ Mission: Impossible _ , so probably that. If he just got off shift he needs coffee." I twist around, trying to make more coffee from where I'm sitting on the counter. 

“Did you tell her…?” Kate whispers. Mouse just shakes his head. “Good. wait, you haven’t seen  _ Mission: Impossible _ ? Are you twelve?!”

I wiggle in my spot and giggle. "Have you met me? Look how small I am! I may actually be twelve." I squint at them. "Tell me what?" I sense a secret and I want. 

“Oh, it’s half decaf,” Mouse says. Kate glares at him. “I ain’t gonna lie to her!”

I deflate a little bit, then shrug. "Gotta drink twice as much! Crockett is gonna need like… a pot just on his own. He gets home and is completely incoherent." I fiddle with the coffee maker. 

“Look what you’ve done,” Kate mutters. Mouse shrugs. And then there’s a gentle knock on the door. 

I pause and look at the door cautiously. I keep fiddling, as I try to focus on my breaths again. 

He's here. 

Kate bounces to the door and throws it open. “Hey, Dr. Marcel!”

He reaches forward and gives her a quick hug with a tired smile. I watch as his eyes sweep the apartment, and then he meets my eyes. I hop off the counter, and I'm suddenly wobbly. 

"Hey, 'Kett." 

He strides forward and as he wraps his arms around me I sigh. This is good. He pulls me down onto the couch as he rocks me. 

"Darlin, I've got you," he whispers, and I can't help the tears. Finally, he pulls away, and his own face is tear-stained. 

"You okay?" 

I nod, and I look to Mouse. He gives me a thumbs-up as he moves away to talk to Kate, leaving Crockett and me alone. 

"Kelley darlin’, I'm so sorry," he says and his voice is cracking. I can't do that. I can't. 

"'Kett, stop. I… I needed help. You've been stressed enough. I'm sorry I never told you."

He pulls me closer. "I missed all of this," he mourns and I stop him. 

"Crockett, no. Please. I'm here now, okay? I'm here. And I'll be okay. We'll be okay." 

He nods as he kisses the top of my head. 

"I've got you, Kel."

I smile as I reach up and poke his ear. "Stop that. Stop the mush. Just because we're siblings doesn't mean you gotta irritate me." 

He rubs circles on my arm. "I always will."

I take a moment in the hug before I get up and come back with a cup of coffee and hand it to him. "Sorry, these morons only buy half-caf."

He laughs and pulls me down back next to him. 

“I gave it up mostly, and when Mouse drinks too much, he doesn’t sleep for days!” Kate calls. “We only have caffeine for guests!”

Crockett practically inhales the cup with a sigh. 

"Much appreciated, Cavanagh!"

“We do our best for family,” she says, cheering at Crockett. There’s a smile shared between them. 

Crockett flashes a wink at her. I laugh as I pull his head down into a fake chokehold and ruffle his hair. 

"Mouse! I need help!" I call.

He very nearly vaults the couch making his way to me. I'm trying to wrestle Crockett down to the couch and I'm hiccuping and giggling as Crockett playfully fights back. 

"Mouse! Come on help me!"

“All my methods are painful!” He cries, delighted.

Kate groans loudly. “I’m surrounded by children.”

Crockett's laughing, and I get an idea. I yank Mouse down to my level and whisper in his ear. "He's ticklish."

Mouse gets solemn for one moment, turning to Crockett. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta do this.”

And the tickling commences. 

Crockett squirms off the couch, his surprised laughs echoing through the living room. I giggle as I lunge after him, Mouse beside me. Crockett makes one fatal mistake. He hides behind the couch. Where it's easy to gang up on him. Mouse vaults over the couch, nearly putting Crockett into a hold. Kate just watches at first. 

"Kate!" He chokes out around laughs, and he's still being tickle assaulted. "Kate- Katie Kat, help me!" 

“What— what the hell is Katie Kat?” She mutters. Then she shrugs. “Nah, that’s cute. Alright. I’m tapping in.”

And she tackles Mouse off of Crockett. He sinks to the floor, laughing still. 

"What the hell, y'all?" He still laughs, his drawl lengthening. I can't, it's just funnier. 

"What the hell've I ever done to you?" 

I snort. He sounds like he's back in the French Quarter. Kate falls back and just starts heaving with laughter. “‘Kett, the hell is  _ that _ ?! Is that real? That’s like when Mouse slips into his West Town shit show!”

“I do not have an accent!” Mouse crows. 

Crockett's still snorting. "Trust me darlin', it's real. I come from St. Roch, kid," he laughs. 

I shake my head. "His drawl gets worse when he's tired or not paying attention," I say as he lays down on the floor. "Crockett, get off the floor."

"No," he says. "This is my home now. The moment someone hauls my sorry ass off this floor is the same damn day they get to try to drink with me. I'll drink 'em under the damn table!"

I look at Mouse. "He's not making sense. Between the nonsense and the drawl, I don't know."

“Honey, you may be from N’awlins, but I’m Irish! We invented drinking!” Kate cries. 

"Oh try an' drink with me, Cavanagh!" He calls, propping himself up on his elbow. "If you e'en try, you'll just crash'n burn."

I sigh. "Kate, you've unlocked the New Orleans rage."

Kate takes a deep breath and yells something that sounds only half coherent. “You know what that’s Gaelic for? May the Devil make a ladder of your backbone and pluck apples in the garden of Hell! Challenge accepted, m’boyo!”

He sits up, his eyes blazing, and there's a flush high on his cheeks. I wince, knowing exactly what's coming next. Crockett points at her with a high-spirited grin and a laugh as he yells a quick "Laissez les bon temp rouler!"

I snort. "Oh, Kate, you've really done it now."

Kate is unfazed. “Sláinte, bitch. Your French don’t scare me.” 

He snorts. "Essayez-moi encore et je vais vous montrer comment un natif de la Nouvelle-Orléans riposte," he mutters under his breath and I choke on air. 

"Crockett don't antagonize her!" I cry, and Mouse is shaking his head. 

“Firstly, stop thinking you can fight me. Second, kind of hot, really want to unpack your French knowledge, thirdly, I could take you in a New York minute!”

"Who dat?" He challenges and I give up. 

"Kate don't do it!" I call, and Crockett just smirks at her. 

I snort. "Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?" I mutter under my breath and Crockett just looks triumphant. 

Kate hauls out and tackles him. Mouse just cackles as the upstairs neighbor starts beating on the ceiling. 

Crockett quickly realizes his mistake, I think, because he's struggling. 

I hear muffled cursing in about three different languages, and I just laugh.

* * *

**June 28, 2019** **   
** **1345 Hours** **   
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago** **   
** **Mouse**

** _Day 3_ **

Kelley’s made it through the day… normal. Well, as normal as the girl could be. Kate is already ready for the Cubs game tonight, and I’m ready to indoctrinate the Canadian into our social practices. 

“Alright. Listen. Dude, Kel, where’s your gear?” She’s in a damn hockey shirt. “Not the time or place!”

"I don't know!" She says, half desperately. "I'm a Canadian, I do hockey, I don't whack a flying ball and run around in circles!"

“Nah. No. Can’t have this.” I take my worn Cubs hat from my head and slam it on her head. “There. Better.”

She pauses, and her eyes well up as she smiles, pulling it low over her eyes. 

"I can learn," she decides. She smiles at me, and she bounces in her seat. "What now? What do I do?"

“First things first, we need food,” he mutters. “I need food. Kate should be back soon. She never cooks on game days.”

She giggles. 

"I am ready," she declares, bouncing on the couch. "Hit me. Hit me!" She giggles. "So what's the game plan?" She asks.

Kate bursts into the apartment— “I have food and friends!” She sings. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

Jay sheepishly wanders in after the grand entrance by Kate, carrying at least five bags of food. 

“Hey, Kelley!” He says, waving with an awkward hand. I don’t know how she’s going to react, but the best thing to do is make her realize it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not. It’s just Jay. 

Once he sets his bags onto the dining table, he throws his arms around me, giving me a damn fine hug, before he turns to Kelley. 

"Hey," she says happily as she hugs him, head resting on his chest. 

I can just barely hear her. 

"Thank you for pulling me off that balcony," she whispers. "I mean it." She's hugging him tight, and it doesn't look like he minds. "You saved me, and I thank you."

In fact, he pulls her even closer. I don’t think he’s going to let go. He’s been there. We’ve both been there. 

Instead I start helping Kate unloading food. She spent a lot of money and time on this, and we are going to have leftovers for days if we’re not careful. 

“Why fried chicken?”

“Kelley’s favorite,” She says.

“What, a good meal to remind her of her will to live?” I say darkly.

“Worked for you,” she says. She gives me a smirk, and she’s right. Hawkeye’s. 

"What do I do? I am an inexperienced Canadian, I do not know protocol," Kelley suddenly screeches.

“You chill out, you stand for the National Anthem, and you scream when we do!” Kate calls back. When I look, Jay’s still holding onto her. I don’t think he wants to let go, even as she screeches. 

That’s fair. She needs it. 

She's still wrapped in his arms, and she maneuvers them so she yanks him onto the couch. 

"I need foooooooood," Kelley calls. "I'm not sure when we start!"

“We have like an hour before first pitch, calm your shit!” Kate says, finally spreading out all the food. “Please,” she says, checking her phone, “go nuts!”

Kelley is tracing shapes on Jay's shoulder while she hugs him. "Mouse!" She calls, drawing it out. 

“What did you do?” Kate says. 

“I let her have 75% caffeine,” I admit. “She’s been so good!”

"Mouse," she calls over Jay's laughs. "Mouse I don't want to move but I want food!"

“What do you desire, my dear?”

“You’re coddling her,” Kate says. “Stop. Don’t do this.”

“Kelleeeyyy!” I call. “What do you want?”

“Don’t complain to me when she grows up spoiled,” Kate says, running to the door. 

"Chicken and potatoes!" She yells back, and Jay's just laughing. 

"Mouse," he calls to me. "When the hell did you gain a tiny blonde kid?"

“The good Lord dropped her in our laps to prepare us for our ultimate future,” Kate yells. “Also, I have more presents!”

Will wanders into the apartment, looking tired but amped, followed behind by a bemused Crockett. I’m sure Kate’s happy that she bought so much food. 

"Hey, darlin," Crockett bends down to drop a kiss to Kelley's forehead as he passes.

"Hey, where's mine?" Jay teases, and Crockett shrugs with a sly look. He bends down and kisses the top of Jay's head too, and Jay cracks up. 

Crockett straightens up, a laugh and a half-embarrassed flush crawling up his neck. "Crockett Marcel," he offers his hand, and Jay extricates his own long enough to shake it. 

"Jay Halstead," he says, chuckling at Crockett. 

Kelley's just rolling her eyes with a giggle. 

Kate snorts her beer and has to run to the sink. 

“Y’all are ridiculous,” I say, dropping a beer in Jay’s waiting hand and then handing one to Will, who takes it with wide eyes. Must have had a rough shift. “Crockett, you want one?”

He looks at it, thinking. He shakes his head. 

"Thanks but no."

Kelley turns to look at him, then eyes Will. 

She doesn't make a deal of it, and leans back into Jay. 

Crockett smiles pleasantly at Kate. "Hey, Katie Kat," he greets her, a half-hug around her shoulders. His jacket is half off, and he doesn't seem to care.

She just pulls him into a full hug. It lasts a second longer than usual. I know why. Instead of musing about it, I present Kelley with her plate. “Listen, get yourself food before we get this started, because you can’t eat when you’re yelling.”

Kate breaks her hug with Crockett and grabs a plate, so I follow suit. Will barely drops his bag before tucking in. Jay lingers for a minute, sticking with Kelley. 

She pats his shoulder. "Food, Halstead. Go."

He obeys. I look over the disarray: I don’t think she realizes it yet. This crew didn’t come together for the Cubs game. This isn’t for baseball. This is for her. 

She bursts into laughter, nearly spilling her food at something Jay says. She glances to me, and her smile fades just a little. 

And then she smiles at me. And she nods. Just once. 

I think she knows. 

* * *

**June 29, 2019** **   
** **0735 Hours** **   
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago** **   
** **Kelley**

** _Day 4_ **

Mouse hauls ass past the barstools I’m sitting on, slipping on a boot as he runs down the hallway. Kate uses the fridge as a mirror, using a Bobby pin to secure her tightly wound bun. 

“How the hell did you forget?” She says muffled, another Bobby pin in her mouth. 

“Me!? Me?! You didn’t remember, either!”

There’s a knock on the door, and Mouse runs, throwing it open. “Thank God, Herrmann.”

"Hey, you two," he smiles as he claps Mouse on the shoulder. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Kate calls. She straightens her jacket, brushing off her sleeves. I haven’t seen her in uniform. It’s both amazing and in a good way, intimidating. Just reminds me how much ass she can kick.

Mouse, on the other hand, looks entirely different. His uniform is the Ranger’s dress uniform: green rather than her blue. 

The one he’s wearing for their wedding. 

“Shouldn’t take all day,” she says. “Money’s in an envelope on the fridge. Order what you want.”

“Watch her coffee intake,” Mouse orders, grabbing his beret. 

Herrmann scoffs. 

"She's not a kid, Gerwitz," he chuckles as he hugs me from behind. 

I study Mouse in his uniform. He's suddenly doesn't look like Mouse. He looks like Specialist Greg Gerwitz, Army Ranger. Calm. Collected. A lifesaver. Both overseas and right here. 

Kate just drops a kiss on Herrmann’s cheek, then does the same for me. 

“We’ll be home soon,” she whispers.

And they’re out the door, for the first time in days. 

And Herrmann sets his bag down by the counter. 

He picks up the full coffee pot and pours us both a cup. 

"How you doing, Kel?" 

I shrug. 

"Thanks for coming, Herrmann," I say softly. 

"Eh well, you know I'm always here, Kelley," he says, smiling. 

He putts around in the kitchen as it's quiet, and for the first time since… since everything, I'm not tortured by the quiet. 

It's a while before he speaks, and he's somewhere behind me as I nurse my coffee. 

"Kelley, can I ask you something?" 

I don't turn around, but I know he sees my nod. 

He's silent for a moment, and if I turned around, I know he'd be standing, leaning on the counter, hands clasped in front of him.

But he doesn't ask the question I was dreading. 

The "why did you do this? " 

Somehow I know I shouldn't be surprised he asks what he does. It's Herrmann, after all. He knows the right words, always. 

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, and I- I don't know- I take a minute to think.

He comes around into my sightline.

He just leans on the counter across from me, looking me in the eye. 

Thank God for Herrmann. 

He's underestimated, and he's been on a long road to where he is. I'm so glad I'm on Engine. 

"Listen, kid," he muses. "I know where you're coming from. Me and Ritter both. I know it's been rough."

He waits a second. 

"You know exactly how that fire went down, Kelley. You were there. You were there, front line. You and Ritter had my back. You and I had Ritter's back. And you know damn well Ritter and I had yours." 

He reaches down and covers my hand, his rough, life-worn thumb rubbing over my palm. 

"When you got into that rig, you didn't know what the fire would be like. But you knew your job. When we got into the building, you didn't know what would happen. You knew your job." 

He's quiet for a moment, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand. 

"I know I thought it was the end of the road," he admits. "I knew I probably wouldn't walk out of that room. But I sure as hell wasn't leavin'. I needed to give the other's time."

His voice wobbles a bit. 

"I ordered you two out. What did you do? Disobeyed my damn order. To stay there and do the same thing I did. We put ourselves there to give the others time." 

He takes a moment to breathe, and I'm pretty sure I'm crying now. 

"Kelley, when they came to get us, I couldn't believe it. And then that hellish piece of junk exploded." 

I go to speak and he shakes his head. 

"I'm not done, Marcks. That explosion tore a chunk out of 51. We lost…. We lost a part of our family. Your brother. My son, in a way. That part of us is gone. He's gone."

Herrmann's eyes meet mine again, and it feels like he's looking into my soul. 

"Don't let me lose another child, Kelley," he says as his own eyes water. "Don't. You gotta stay here." 

He comes around the counter to wrap his arms around me. 

He's standing there, and I'm still shorter as I sit on the barstool. He doesn't care. His arms shield me from the world, from the pain. From the hurt, just for a while. 

But he also gives me something. 

He gives me the peace that I did my job. That I had my team's backs. I knew it, but Herrmann saying it drives it home. 

"I thank God every day for you, Kelley Marcks. I thank God you came out of that fire. A piece of our hearts got left there, but you fought your way. I've never been more proud of you."

His hand is cradling my head where it rests in the valley between his neck and shoulder. 

"Let me back in, Kelley, please," he says lowly, pleading. "I know you pushed us away after the funeral. Pushed me away. Stop pushing me away. Let me back in." 

I think about all of his calls I let go to voicemail. 

Of all the texts I left unanswered. 

Of every card the team sent. 

Every card and text he sent. 

He stops my train of thought with a hum as he pulls back enough to look at me. 

"Don't. Don't go into the past, kid. I know as well as you do how bad an idea that is." He pauses, weighing whether to say the thing on his mind. "Going into the past is partly why we are where we are right now. Please don't do that. Stay here." 

I stare at him, and I couldn't talk even if I wanted to. 

I don't have the words or the voice. 

He sees the look in my eye and clicks his tongue, pulling me tighter. Closer. 

He's rocking me slightly, his hand still rubbing circles on the back of my head, his other hand firmly on my back, as if keeping me here. 

"You're not going anywhere, Marcks," he says. "That's an order."

I chuckle, and he does too. After a moment, he hops up on the barstool beside me. "You know, Kelley," he starts. I don't need to look at him to know the look on his face. He's serious, but there's a world-weary smile that crinkles around his eyes. 

I've spent enough time with him to know where he's going with this. 

"I never thanked you," he says, and I'm taken aback. He's surprised me. He didn't pull a wisecrack like I thought he would. 

"I never thanked you, for having my back. I never thanked you for staying despite my order. I had a lot of time to think about after the fire, and I won't go back into the past, but I will say this. You and Ritter not only gave the others the time they needed. You gave me time too. I wouldn't have left that room this side of heaven. And for going to Molly's. You went, when I didn't have the strength."

He pauses. 

"I told one of our firefighters something once. I told it to her when she was a candidate. She went on to do great things." He holds me still, and I know he's closed his eyes. He does this thing where when he remembers something, he closes his eyes because he can see it. I know that. He sees things, and remembers them. 

"'It's my job, as an old firefighter, to teach the young firefighters how to become old ones.'" 

His voice is steady, even, typical Herrmann. Until he whispers again. And it's not the voice of Lieutenant Herrmann of Engine 51. It's the voice of Christopher Herrmann the father and a good man. 

"Kelley, please stay around so I can do that. Stay so I can do that." 

And for the first time, I see my lieutenant, my mentor -no, I realize. My friend. My father figure- I see him break a little. And I'm suddenly holding him as tight as he holds me. My arms come up and wrap around him. I mirror him. One arm around his back, the other behind his neck. 

We both needed this. 

We're both crying, but it's the tears of something like the prodigal child. 

And it's the tears that bring together, and heal. 

We stay like that for a long time. I don't even know how long. I don't care. 

I feel like I've been in pieces on the floor, and my friends are slowly putting me back together. 

For the first time, I don't feel the need to try and hide the pieces. 

Herrmann's words were his way of taking a piece off the floor and replacing it. He's taken the jagged edges and smoothed them in. 

His hand smooths back my hair as he pulls back, and he searches my eyes. His own eyes are red and watery, and I'm sure my own match. 

He seems to find what he's looking for. 

"There it is," he chuckles softly. 

"There's what?" I ask, voice hoarse. 

"The light. The light's back on in your eyes. I was scared I'd never see it again," he admits, and he can't help the smile, even as he scrubs away the tears under his eyes. 

I smile, and he reaches forward and brushes away my tears too.

"You are Kelley Marcks," he whispers. "And you are a firefighter, a smoke eater. You're a damn good life enrichment specialist. But you're my friend and my daughter, Marcel's sister, hell, Kate's and Gerwitz's sister. You're you first, you're family first. Let us help you. Let us in."

He brushes a kiss to my forehead as he gets up. He's rummaging through his bag, and between him, Kate, Mouse, Dr. Charles, Crockett, Will and Jay, I feel more whole than I have since the fire. 

He lays a tupperware container on the counter with a grin. He opens it, and there are two dozen of what I know are Cindy's brownies. 

"Oh Herrmann, you angel," I tell him, and he shrugs.

He pulls out half and sets them aside for later, for Kate and Mouse. He hands me the container. 

"What say you, a movie, hot chocolate, and brownies?" He asks, and I nod. "Hell yeah, Lieutenant," I tease. 

He nods. 

He's somewhere behind me as he gets the hot chocolate ready. At one point I hear him pause behind me. I don't turn around. 

"Just a reminder kid. Remember that one verse I have tacked up in my locker?"

I nod. 

"What does it say?" He prompts me gently. I hum. 

"Which part?" I ask. 

"Love is patient, love is kind….." he starts before he skips to what I know is his favorite part. "It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres," he says softly, his voice warm. He lays his hands on my shoulders, slowly rubbing out the tense knots.

"We've got you, kid. I've got you. I'll do that, if you let me. If you let us."

H sets the hot chocolate on the living room coffee table and then comes back to help me off the barstool. He walks with me to the couch. 

He fiddles with the remote for all of half a second. "You work it. I'll end up breaking the newfangled doohickey."

I smile. Classic Lt. Herrmann. And classic Chris Herrmann, too. 

I select the movie he and I have rewatched a million times. And as the music soars, and on screen Andy picks up Mr. Potato Head, Herrmann imitating his lines, "All right, everyone! This... is a stick-up!" I laugh. 

He shoots a sideways look at me, and I see a smile on his face. And for the first time since he walked in, that smile is free, easy. Relaxed. 

I know I feel the same way. 

His hand stays on mine, his thumb still rubbing circles on it. 

Herrmann and I, we came through some shit. But key is, we're on our way through it. Not in it. 

He falls asleep first, around the time Andy finds Buzz Lightyear. I watch for a moment more, and I find myself drifting too. I don't mind. 

**Mouse**

“They’re fine,” I reassure Kate as we head back upstairs to the apartment. “It’s Herrmann. If anyone else could wrangle her, it’s her lieutenant.”

“I know,” she mutters, literal hat in hand, “but this was so sudden. We totally forgot in the midst of everything.”

“And Herrmann came! It’s not a big deal—“

She stops me outside our door. “Listen. It is a big deal. I just feel like….” she drifts. 

“What? Tell me. No secrets.”

“I know. It’s hard. I just wish we had known sooner. I should have seen it. I wish we could have helped her sooner, you know? If I had…. if I had found her sooner, this would have never led to this. Because I know that this culminates. It’s not all about Otis. It’s about a million different things, and Otis set her off. I know.”

She does know. She knows it from me. “You can’t blame yourself, Kate.”

“It’s not her fault,” she says. “I just worry that we didn’t do enough. That I didn’t do enough. And that’s what terrifies me.”

I pull her into me. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel her sigh. “I understand terrified. I do. But one thing I know is, if you’re worried you’re not doing enough, then you are doing enough. Because you care.”

She pulls herself from me, exhaling heavily, wiping her eyes. “Ooof,” she says. “Okay. I’m good. I just. I needed a moment to rest.”

“I know, babe. We should probably relieve our babysitter.”

“Oh, God, she’s going to be bouncing off the walls,” she mutters, opening the door. But when we walk inside, it’s silent. I’m almost scared. Until we make it to the living room. 

Herrmann and Kelley are wrapped up together on the couch, out cold. Herrmann, with his feet up on the coffee table, his arm around Kelley; her knees tucked up almost to her chest under his arm. He must have fallen asleep rubbing her back. Herrmann snores lightly. 

Kate sighs again. “Damn babysitter.”

“What, should we dock his pay for sleeping on the job?”

“No,” Kate says, kicking off her boots. “We should give him a raise.”


	8. We've seen the holy, the lonely, the sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelley, Kate, and Mouse have an outing to Molly's, one that is sorely needed for the three of them. But the ulterior motives of the soon to be Gerwitzes become obvious as they try to gently push Kelley back into some realm of normalcy with the people who love her.

**June 30, 2019  
** **1823 Hours  
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago  
** **Kelley**

** _Day 5_ **

"Mouse, maybe me going to Molly's isn't the best idea," I say nervously. I'm pacing. I'm in jeans and a sweater and I'm pacing, because when Kate is finally ready we're leaving for Molly's. 

He's lounging on a barstool, and his phone is in his hand. 

"Kelley," he says. "Kelley you need to slow down."

"Molly's is….it's loud and crowded, and I have to see everyone, and I- I don't know if that's-" 

He's up off the stool and he's pulled me into him with a soft "oof." 

"Stop that," he says lowly. "I'm going to be there, Kate too. Jay. Will. Crockett might be able to come too. Herrmann is there. We've got you. If you don't like it, we'll come straight home. Can we try, though? Try it for me?" 

I nod into his shoulder. I'm breathing. Keep…. Keep breathing. Take another. I'm okay. I'll be fine.

He rubs my back, and I feel some of the tension leaving my body. Still, the fear of seeing everyone, all at once, is daunting.

But Kate finally leaves the bedroom, brushing her hair back from her face. “Alright, cool, let’s hop to it!” She says, pulling on one more shoe. 

I'm leaving the apartment for the first time since I got here, and it's an odd feeling. 

I can't help but follow Kate and Mouse down the hallway, and I'm searching for the word I feel. 

Untethered. 

I want to see everyone, but… it's so much. So many people. 

But Mouse reaches out for my hand, and I take it. Kate sees it and doesn’t say anything. She usually doesn’t, and I’m happy for that. 

We make it outside for the first time in days. 

I want to run, run back inside. But I don't. 

The car ride is quiet, and I'm not trying to jump out this time. 

But I do feel some of the panic clawing at me the closer to Molly's we get.

“If you want, we can just go, say hi, and head out, okay?” He says. “No worries.”

“We might have to make a taco run after,” Kate interrupts his train of thought. Everything they say makes it sound so… simple. So commonplace. “Gotta hit De Pasada. Burrito grandes, people.”

I smile. I'm still anxious but I want to try. 

When we pull up and get out, I'm excited and nauseous at the same time. I'm almost pushing ahead of Kate and Mouse. 

When I get in the door, I take a moment to look around. It's so different from the last time I was there, when it was just Kate and I. There's people everywhere. It's crowded. 

I let my eyes fall on the plaque. No. I look away. 

There's noise, there's so much noise and music and people talking. 

I'm by the door, and I have to pause. 

I'm both thrilled by being here and I want to turn and run. 

I can't make myself go backward or forward, I'm locked in place. 

I need to breathe. 

But Kate and Mouse linger. They don’t look worried. They don’t look annoyed. They’re just…. waiting patiently. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, leaning against the wall. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll go in.”

I swallow my fear. 

"Let's go." 

I push in towards the bar. Herrmann meets my eyes, and… his face lights up. 

"Hey kid," he smiles at me, and he half climbs over the bar to hug me. 

He holds me for a second longer, and we both know why. 

"Proud of you, kid." 

He follows our tradition whenever I walk in the door. 

He hugs me, and passes me a little snack bag of sunflower seeds. He's trying to be normal and I love him for it. 

So I carry out my role. I throw the bag at his face.

He's off his game tonight, and it hits him square in the nose. 

"Stop trying to kill me, Lieutenant!"I giggle, like I always do, and I don't notice Herrmann's sharp breath in. 

I stare at the taps, thinking. 

"What the hell do I want?"

Kate, in typical fashion, grabs a glass from over the bar and starts filling it from behind. 

“Hey, grab me one too,” Mouse says.

Hermann's hands go to his hips. 

"Uh, guys? Right here. Literally in front of you. I am- and this, this is a novel concept- I am what's called a bartender. I can -now hear me out- I can actually serve you. This ain't no self serve lane at the gas station."

Kate just stares him down, taking a long drink from her self-served glass. Mouse gives Herrmann a wide smile, almost apologetic, for his betrothed. 

Herrmann just sighs. "Fine."

I giggle, and I look around Molly's. It's so busy. It's so loud. Crowded. 

It's packed. It's so different from a month ago. When I was here. 

I can see the plaque. The plaque with Otis' dedication. His picture. 

Over a table, with Joe Cruz. Sitting alone. 

He glances up, scans the bar, and his eyes land on mine. 

And he smiles. It starts small, but grows wide, and then with a single gesture, beckons me over.

I can't breathe. 

I walk over, and I want to move forward and run, all at the same time. 

I stand by the table and I…. I smile at him. 

"Hey, Cruz. Hey."

“Hey, Kelley. Wanna sit?” He says. He sounds nervous. He taps his fingers on his beer glass.

I perch myself on the stool and I can't help but smile nervously too. 

"How've you been?" I ask softly.

”I… I uh, I’m doing the best I can,” he says, his voice cracking a little. There’s something about it that sounds like he hadn’t told anyone yet. “I miss him. I’ve missed you.”

My breath catches, just a little. 

"I've missed you, Cruz. I miss him, too." My hand reaches over and stills the one that's tapping a tattoo on his glass. He moves to grab my hand.

“Thanks,” he says. “Thanks for… for…”

I meet his eyes, and I don't know what he's about to say. 

"For what, Joe?" I prompt gently, and my voice is shaking. 

“God, I don’t know,” he finally says. “I just… thanks for making it out. I don’t know what I would have done if… if it were both of you. If that fire took… took you…”

His words hit deep, and I know he has no idea what's happened in this last week. Which makes it all the more bittersweet. 

My hand grips his. "Joe," I say softly, half pleading. For him to keep talking? For him to stop? I don't know. 

"I… I'm…. I made it out," I whisper. 

“I know, I know. And we signed up for this, you know? We signed up for this, we face it every day, but damn, does it suck when we do. It sucks, Kelley,” he says, shaking his head a little before taking a long drink.

I nod, and I agree. It sucks. 

And I can't stop myself. 

"I'm glad I made it out, Joe." 

My hand tightens around his, and I smile, watery.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I needed to see you,” he says quietly. “We all did.”

I can feel the tears inching down my face. "I needed to see you all too, Joe. You especially." 

“Aww, c’mon,” he says, standing up from his seat. He circumvents the table and holds out his arms, waiting for a hug.

I can't help it, and I pretty much run into his arms. 

I can't help the fact I'm hugging him like my life depends on it. 

He doesn't know what happened. He doesn't know how much he's helped me. 

"Joe, thank you."

“Kelley, you’re one of the good ones,” he sighs. 

I can't help the half sob at his words. 

"You are too, Joe," I say, relaxing into his arms.

“Alright, Marcks, let’s drink,” he says roughly, like he’s trying to regain some sort of decorum in the bar before someone catches him being soft. 

I grin. "What are you havin', Joe? I need to think of something myself."

“Cheap beer,” he says, gesturing with his bottle. “Let me get somethin’ for you. What do you want?”

"Just a lemon sour, please," I smile. "Thanks."

“Don’t know how you drink that,” he mutters, but he heads to the bar, calling for Herrmann as he goes. 

I smile softly. After a moment I look up at the plaque above me, where I know it is. I should know. I hung it. 

The picture of him smiles down, and I nod, throwing him a two finger salute. "You were a good one, buddy," I whisper. I can't help the sudden quiet that surrounds my mind now.

“Marcks!” I hear from a seat at the bar. At Mouch’s bark, I see him gesturing to me to come back to the bar now that I’m alone. “Marcks, get over here.”

I see him, and my heart warms. I hop up next to him and drop a kiss on his cheek. "Missed you, buddy."

“Yeah, Marcks! Where you been?” He calls out. “The temp we got is a buzzkill. Need your pretty face back.” 

I toss my hair. "No temp can replace me. Besides," I say. "I can't stay away from you all forever." My head touches his shoulder as I speak. 

He slides the lemon sour towards me with a gross expression. “So weird.”

I smile. "Best damn non-alcoholic thing besides coffee, McHolland, fight me." I wiggle a bit happily as I sip it. 

He chuckles as he studies his beer. 

I finish the lemon sour and I look at Herrmann.

"A whiskey please," I ask softly, and he questions me with his eyes. When I nod, he seems satisfied. 

"One," he warns me. 

"Just one," I reply. 

As I sip it, I turn back to Mouch. 

"How have you been, buddy?" I ask.

“Eh, as good as I could be. We miss you, kid,” he says leaning into me. “Mostly I miss that chili.”

I grin. 

"Yeah well. I'll be back….. soon enough." 

I smile into my whiskey. 

"Thanks for bein' you, Mouch." 

He turns to me, and he puts his arm around me. 

I know Herrmann didn't tell him. He wouldn't. But I feel like Mouch sees more than everyone gives him credit for. 

And with that, the simple motion of him kissing me on the cheek fills my heart. 

After a while he signals Herrmann over and my Lieutenant/bartender passes me another lemon sour. Mouch gently pulls away my half gone whiskey. 

"Enough of that, have something else," he says as he taps the sour glass. 

I smile as I stare at the drink. 

Herrmann comes back over, and he looks drained. 

"Mouch, I'm done," he says. "I'm out of steam." He comes out from behind the bar and half slumps onto Mouch, who grabs him with a chuckle, stopping him from sliding to the ground. 

Kate leans forward from her place down the bar to fill her glass again.

“I swear on everything holy, Cavanagh, you do that again, you’re out—“ Herrmann starts drawling. 

I sigh. "Kate, Kate stop it. Let me do that." I hop off my stool and take the towel from Herrmann's hand.

I get behind the bar and take Kate's glass. "You need to stop raisin' the Lieutenant's blood pressure."

“Oh, me too,” Mouse says, passing me his glass. 

I know what they’re doing. I don’t hate it. 

As I start filling glasses, I smile at Herrmann. He winks at me. 

I love it.


	9. We Scream Like Sisters and Brothers, But We Hold On Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few days come without incident. Or at least, any negative incident. Kate and Kelley finally have it out on the rink, while Kelley and Mouse take an early morning run that leads to Kelley finally finding her way home, now with the protection of the patron saint of lost causes.  
Still, Kelley's learned one thing: she's not a lost cause anymore.

**July 1, 2019  
** **1412 Hours  
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago  
** **Kate**

** _Day 6_ **

I do another lap. The cold air feels nice on my face. Sharp. Reminds me of the cold Chicago air. Being July, I actually kind of miss my Windy City. 

I attempt a triple salchow and I only make a double in my gear as Kelley makes it onto the ice. 

She slips and slides for a moment as she gets used to the ice again, and she starts circling. 

"Kate, you have like…. Really good ideas."

She skates by me with a grin. 

“Every once in a while I do,” I sigh, finding my puck. I drop it on the ice and start trying to juggle it. I have too much to say and not enough words to say it. 

With a violently hard slap shot, it slams into the goal. 

She drops an obnoxious "bwergh" from behind me. 

"Whatcha doin'?" She asks, circling me. I can’t speak. I just stare at her. 

“What…. in holy hell…. was that noise.”

She shrugs. "Bwergh" she trills, eyeing me. "It's a pigeon."

I stare at her, wide eyed. “Kelley. Kelley, did you hit your head? Kelley?  _ Kelley _ ?!” I skate at her, trying to chase her down the rink.

She giggles as she books it down the ice, screaming it as she goes. 

After a moment, she flat tires, face planting gracelessly. 

“You good?” I call out, trying not to hover like a worried parent. She’s been better. She’s had good days. Even when she tried so hard to have bad days. 

She just screams into the ice. 

“Good scream or bad scream?”

She screams again before hauling herself off the ice. For good measure, she screeches again. 

“Let it out, kid,” I say. “Let it out.”

After a moment she turns to me, a half smile on her face. "I'm good!" She says cheerily, skating up around me. "Whatcha doin'?" She asks again. I retrieve the puck and go back to the face off dot. Lining it up, I slam it once more. It hits so hard, it moves the goal a little. 

She nods, impressed. "What is it?" She finally asks me. "Spit it out, Kate."

Her demeanor completely changes. She’s serious again. I skate forward, retrieve the puck again. It’s brewing in my head, but I don’t know where to start. I drop the puck and stare at it again. 

She skates towards me, and puts a hand on my arm. 

"Kate, open up."

I slam the puck one more time. “I’m pissed, Kelley! I’m pissed! You… you should have told me. You should have said something before. I could have been there for you. I would have. I just don’t understand. I know you’ve been through…. so much. So much bullshit. More than anyone should have to go through. I’m pissed you think that was the only option. All I want is to help you. And…. and sometimes, I…. you don’t do it much anymore, but you would try to push me away. To push Mouse away. If I had done better to remind you of that, maybe you wouldn’t have— you wouldn’t…. God, dammit!” 

She skates closer. "First off, Kate, you gotta say it. Actually call it what it is. I can't do skirting around things anymore." She gestures wildly. "Second. I'm sorry I never said anything before. I didn't want…. I didn't want to bother you or Mouse."

“It’s just… wow. I… you… asking for help or support isn’t bothering anyone. That’s what friendship and family is for. It sucks being on edge. I’m scared. I’m scared for you. I’m afraid that if I’m in class, or—or on an ROTC retreat, or….unavailable, that you’ll go too far again. Or you’ll slip into a state of mind where you’ll just…. space, and I can’t help you. And you know me, I just… I’ll get frustrated if I can’t fix it. But that doesn’t mean I’m ever going to stop. You know that. You know I’m too fucking stubborn for that. I’m afraid there’s going to be a time when my words aren’t enough. And I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t. I’ll freak, and I’ll probably puke, and Mouse is a sympathetic puker, so everyone will be puking…. and God, I hate puking. I do.”

She pushes me by the shoulders into the boards.

"Kate, listen to me. Listen. I'm here now. I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere. I might think about it, but it's not going to happen. Why? Because I have everyone. And everyone knows, and I have help." She presses harder. "So I'm sorry I never said anything before. I didn't plan on trying to throw myself off my damn balcony!"

I grasp onto her hands. I’m almost afraid she’s going to pick me off my feet. “It still terrifies me. I know. I know you didn’t plan on it. I don’t think you ever do. It still terrifies me. I’m gonna keep reminding you, though. You’ve got me. You’ve got all of us. I just…. I always think of all the scenarios, and the scenario still exists where you might try again. And I can’t have that. I can’t lose you. I almost lost Greg. Hell, I did lose Greg for two years. Two years! I was a ghost! I’m sick of losing people, Kelley, I can’t lose you, too. And fuck if you think I won’t keep telling you that. I will say it to you every hour of the rest of your life. Your long, long life. Beside me.”

She stares into my eyes. "I went to work. I did my job,” she says, no real heat in her voice. “Now I can't help but wonder, really wonder if there's someday a call that I don't come back from. Maybe there is. It won't stop me from doing my job." She releases my shoulders. "I can't promise I won't die, Kate. But I can promise that I won't die by my own hand. I won't. I just ask for help. Please. I need you all."

She steps back and runs a lap around the rink to clear her head. 

“I need you to make that promise to me…. any time I need to hear it,” I call. “Just like I remind you that I’ll be there. I need to be reminded. I think you need the reminder, too. You…. you came into my life in the most…. the most random of ways, and I keep asking myself why I deserve you. You are hilarious. You’re fantastic at what you do. You keep me sane even when you’re insane. You’re talented, and beautiful, and there is no goddamn reason for you to want to quit all of this. That’s why I’m pissed, Kelley. Because I want to give you everything when you think you deserve nothing.”

She sighs as she comes to a stop in front of me. 

"Let me put it to you like this," she says. "When I got attacked in my apartment. When I got injured during a call saving Casey and Mouch. Hell, when I had to protect my brother with only Otis beside me. This goddamn mattress fire. That's  _ my _ Nangalam, Kate. That's my Sandbox." She spins on the ice, almost falling over. "That's my Sandbox,” she whispers again.

I stop. I stop, and I slide down the boards, until my ass hits the ice. 

“I know this shit ain’t my fault,” I say. “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through it. I’m sorry you haven’t always had the support you needed. I’m sorry… I’m sorry you got this far. Because had I been there, had I known your struggle, it would have never gotten this far.” I take off my glove and wipe tears from my eyes. “If I ever seem… angry, or disappointed, or frustrated to you, especially when you’re going through shit, I want you to know… it’s not you. I feel like I’ve hit a wall, that I’ve exhausted all my options to try to help, that I don’t know what I’m doing to try to get you to… to stop spiraling. We’re both human, you and I. I can take it. I can take a hell of a lot. And I’m always going to for you. Just sometimes, I get so mad that no one ever helped you before, tried to reach out. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

I linger for a while, trying to think, it seems. It takes me a long while before I sigh. 

“There are times… times when I scare myself. You know? I can say all that shit, and I can  _ mean _ all that shit, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t know if I believe it myself. I know that sounds weird. It’s probably not the most encouraging thing to say right now. I try to play myself off as… as the most confident person in the room, but it’s not always there. I have stared down the barrel of a gun so many times that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. Death is inevitable, sure, but it should come when you’re  _ done _ . When you’ve lived all you can. Not like you. You’ve got so much left. You’ve got so much in you. Hell, what about…. What about the team? What about Raz? He’s always makin’ eyes at you. Who knows. I just want you to be  _ happy _ , Kelley. I want you to be happy.”

She snorts. "I can wish, but it'll never work. That boy… Damn, I like him. He's sweet. He likes his defense partner, not me." She spins in a circle again, then seems to bear hug me. "I love you, you know? I know now you get it. I hate it. But you get it."

“Sadly I do. Between all the hell we’ve seen in the Sandbox, to the shit here…” I run my hand over my face. ‘Kelley, it gets to be too much sometimes.”

"Can we… can both of us just…" she takes a moment, struggling to come up with the words. "Can you and I just promise each other we talk about this?" She asks softly. "Whenever we feel like this? You and me."

I glance up to here, and I just feel myself nodding. Whether it’s intentional or not, or whether it’ll come back to this point or not, she has to know I’m gonna be there for her. That I’m not gonna break. That I’m not gonna let her get to that point again. 

I take a deep breath. For the first time in a while—for the first time since this all happened—I feel like maybe I can breathe. 

And as she slides down the boards to sit beside me, pulling me into her side, maybe she feels it too. 

She knows. She knows I'm there. 

“We all have our Nangalams, our Sandboxes. They might not be the same, or even as painful, or as traumatic, but we all have them. And we’re all making it through. We’re all trying to fight through it. And we’re all at different places in that fight. But remember please, whenever you feel like breaking down, or if you feel yourself slipping, can you remember this? Please? I’ll always try to be there. But if I’m not… well, you know I’m already there. Follow in my footsteps in the sand. I’ll lead you home.”

* * *

**July 2, 2019  
** **0503 Hours  
** **Lakefront Trail, Chicago  
** **Mouse**

** _Day 7_ **

The only sound this early in the morning on the Lakefront Trail is our footsteps hitting the ground in time. It’s almost comforting, the rhythm. It’s sure as hell familiar, the march tune. 

But I can’t focus on that. I focus on my breathing.

And the fact that I promised Kelley a lot of coffee if she went out on a run with me this early. It’s going to be worth it, I told her. It’ll be worth it.

But the dawn is coming, and we’re nearly there. I speed up a little, causing her to speed up in tandem.

To our left, the lake. To the right, the city. In between, us. 

I skid to a stop on the beach. The sand kicks up a little, and I start walking towards the 31st Street Beach’s pier. I walk down to the end, then drop down, letting my legs nearly hit the water.

Kelley follows at a distance, and finally sits down next to me. She folds her legs under her as she stares out over the water. 

She says nothing, but just watches.

And then the dawn comes. We sit and watch. I take in a deep breath, and another. The sun peeks over the water, and the clear sky shifts from blue, to pink, to gold. The water glistens in the morning light.

I sigh. 

"You good?" She asks softly, not turning to me. She watches the sunrise, almost afraid to disturb the peace.

“Kate told me you had it out,” I say. I have to clear my throat, we’ve been so quiet for so long. “We had that argument once.”

She shrugs. "Needed to be said," she whispers. "We both said things and we both needed a bit to just… just deal with it all." Her hands move to the ground beside her. 

“How are you doing?” I ask. It’s been a week. It’s been a week since she’s… I look at my wrist under my watch.

She sighs. "It's been a hell of a week. How are you doing?" She turns to look at me then.

I don’t know how to respond. I just sit there, watching the water. “I’m… I’m okay.”

She hums softly. 

"Are you?"

“Yeah,” I say. “I think… I think we all put too much emotion into shit like this. If we—society, I guess—all just… normalized the feelings, we would…. We wouldn’t go through this shit so dramatically, you know? Death is… it’s just so final. Pain? Doesn’t have to be. I know it sounds canned, I know it sounds fake, or like a Hallmark card, but it really isn’t. The want to die… it’s not a want to die, exactly, it’s a want to make the… the sounds stop. The noise. It gets too loud, everything around you, and you want it to be quiet again. But it’s… it’s possible maybe not to… to silence it completely, but it’s possible to make it quiet. Make it… less. And the sooner we all realize that we’re all feeling inadequate, or hurt, or stress or anxiety or depression, in some way, shape or form, that’s the moment we can all start healing.” I pause, fiddling with my sleeve.

“It’s not… we all go through it sometime. We all handle it differently. Some of us re-enlist. Some of us push ourselves into our jobs, into our hobbies. Some of us walk out on a balcony thinking ‘maybe I should jump’. Some of us try to slit our wrists. It’s not taboo. It’s pain. Look at it in its face, and address it. The more it’s ignored, the worse it’s going to get.”

I let out a heavy breath. The sun keeps rising.

She nods, and suddenly there's a weight on my side. She's pushed herself under my arm. 

"I've ignored it for too long," she whispers. 

“I know you have,” I say. “I did, too. Nearly killed me.” I push into her with my shoulder. “Didn’t though.”

She sighs. "Mouse?"

I glance down to her. The tiny blonde looks…. Pensive, for once.

"Thank you. For not letting me kill myself on the bathroom floor. For pulling me back when I spiraled out. For holding me when all I needed was to be held, and told I'm worth it, and reminded I'm safe."

I put my arm around her shoulders, and I pull her close, resting my chin on her head. 

“I know I don’t seem like it, but I can be quiet. You don’t have to explain anything to me. You can just sit with me. I’ll get it.”

She relaxes into me, and she nods. 

"I didn't know what to do," she whispers. "I knew I should call someone. But I didn't really know. I was scared. I was hurting. Mouse, I went onto that balcony wanting to end myself. I didn't know what to do."

“You do now. I think you have thousands of reasons to not do it now. I’m glad to be just one of them.”

She nods, resting her head on my chest. "Sometimes I need to be reminded." She traces the mostly healed scarring on her wrist, and places a small hand over my wrist. 

“ I’m gonna keep reminding you, though.”

"One more thing," she whispers. "Mouse, if I ever start pushing you away, or Kate, please. Stop me. Remind me. However you need to. I'm sorry I pushed you away before."

“Well, you can’t anymore. I’m here. We’re all here. However you need us. Listen. This… this pier is kind of where Kate and I… well, we kind of give each other things here. So.” I reach into my pocket. I don’t have a box or anything, but I hold out the chain on my hand. The patron saint medal hangs from the men’s chain. I don’t think she’ll mind. “It’s… it’s something Kate gave me. Last year. Around this time, actually. It’s, uh. Saint Anthony. Patron saint of lost causes. Or those of us who think we’re lost, anyway.”

She looks at me, and her eyes well up with tears.

"Mouse… you…" she stutters to a stop. "What are you doing?"

I just lean forward, latching the chain around her neck. It hangs long on her neck. But I don’t think she’s going to care. 

She smiles at me, eyes still watering as she rubs a thumb over the face of the medal. She leans back into me, her arms around my neck. "Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you."

“Thank you, ” I say. “Now. Why don’t we get up and head to breakfast? Bridgeport is a two and half mile run. And then there’s all the coffee you can drink. Caffeinated this time.”

She grins. "I'm down. I'm on a caffeine withdrawal. Save me, buddy."

I already start running down the path. “Steak and eggs! Chicken and waffles! Pancakes! Think about the damn pancakes, Kelley!”

And we run away from the pier, and the beach, and the water, and the dawn, the sun on our backs.

* * *

**July 3, 2019  
** **1710 Hours  
** **1111 W 14th Place #122, Little Italy, Chicago  
** **Kelley**

** _Day 8_ **

I pull together the clothes I have into my bag, and I make my way into the kitchen. 

"Kate!" I call. "I'm ready!" 

I walk past Mouse nursing his coffee on the barstool and I tickle the back of his neck. 

He snorts into his coffee, and I smirk. 

Kate comes out of the bedroom, keys in hand. 

"Ready to go home?" 

"Hell yeah," I say. 

I'm laughing and joking with them as we pull up to my apartment building. 

I check my clock. Crockett's still at work. He's off at 6, so there'll be time to make dinner. 

I bound down the hallway to my door, and thank God I have my keys. 

I open the door and step into my apartment for the first time in a week.

It feels so damn good to be home. I eye my couch, the open kitchen. The windows. 

I glance at the balcony doors. 

I can't help the sudden draw. I step closer, opening the door. I step onto my balcony, and my hands find the railing. I lean on my arms, and I glance down. 

But I look up. 

And I inhale deeply. The heat. But a cool breeze. 

I finally turn around. Mouse leans against the doorway to the balcony, trying to look like he had gotten there coolly, but the heavy, gasping breaths betray him. Kate isn’t far behind, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, giving me what looks like an incredibly fake—but good attempt—at a smile.

I smile at them both. 

I step closer to Kate and plant a kiss on her cheek. 

And I wrap my arms around Mouse briefly, standing on my tiptoes. 

I realize what happened, and I grin sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck. 

"I scared you, didn't I?" 

“Define ‘scared’,” Kate says at the same time that Mouse says, “Just a little.” They glance at each other quickly, like they both didn’t want the other to admit to it.

"Sorry," I murmur, stepping inside and locking the door. 

I spend another moment staring outside. "Didn't mean to freak you out." As I do, I hear Kate’s whisper. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear it.

“Don’t let her.”

Then Mouse—

“Chill out. She’s fine. She needed to go on that balcony. She had to face it. Stop making it a big deal. The more you freak out, the more you freak everyone else out. It’s like when you freak out if a baby falls, they’ll learn that it hurts. She needs to learn that the hurt… it can fade. Trust her.”

“I do trust her.”

“Act like it, Kate.”

“Jeez, didn’t know you were gonna take me on tonight. “

“I love you.”

“You’re sucking up so you can get fucked tonight.”

“Maybe a little.”

I gag from I'm standing. "Gross. Actually gross. I heard that last bit. I wish I didn't." I head into the kitchen, just getting reacquainted with my home. Mouse kisses Kate quickly, then gives her a cheesy smile.

“You’re sucking up,” Kate says, pointing at him as he heads towards the kitchen with me. “You’re sucking up. You know I hate suck-ups.”

“But you love me!”

“Fair. That’s fair.”

I chuckle as I hop up onto my counter. I start my coffee maker, fondling the can. "Blessed nectar, full caf," I practically purr. 

I glance around and see the kitchen, immaculate as if no one lived here. Such was living with Crockett. And then Mouse comes in with the groceries Kate had demanded we bring, and starts pulling out items, messing up the entire immaculate set up that Crockett had devised. 

Such was the Cavanagh-Gerwitz Cavalry.

I eye the sheer amount of groceries. 

I laugh and leave Kate to her task. 

I make my way down the hallway. I forget about the lip at the bathroom door and trip on it, as I always do. 

I hit the floor with a yelp.

Kate gasps. Mouse calls out. “You good? Did’ja flat tire?”

I suddenly can't answer. I'm sprawled on my bathroom floor, and I'm laughing way too hard to say anything. I flash a thumbs up out the door, and hope they see it because I'm giggling too much to make sure. 

“Safe!” Mouse calls out, making some sort of gesture I think is from baseball. Kate snorts before letting out a loud laugh. 

I giggle once more, then set about my task. 

I pull every single blade from every spot in the bathroom. Every place I've hidden them. I grab the half dozen from my room. I place them in a small cardboard box.

I try and think. I think that's it. 

I pad my way back to the kitchen quietly. 

I set the box on the counter. "Here."

Kate looks in it, nods once, and goes back to pulling an exorbitant amount of breadsticks out of a frozen bag. Mouse looks at it, smirks, and grabs it. “I know what we gotta do.”

He heads for the fireplace, and pulls a lighter from his pocket.

“Mouse, why the hell do you have a lighter?” Kate says, seemingly exhausted. 

“Why don’t you have a lighter?” He calls back to his fiancee before turning to me. “You got old newspapers or kindling?”

I hem and haw for a moment as I think. "Should be in the bag in that closet," I point. 

I check in the less likely spot, the compartment under the chair I'm on.

“Got it!” Mouse calls out, pulling a bunch of paper out and making a slightly unsightly mess. He packs it into the fire place with a bit of scrap wood and immediately starts a fire with his lighter.

“A real Ranger would’ve started it with flint,” Kate calls from the kitchen.

“No comments from the peanut gallery!” He yells back, not even bothering to look at her. “I’m in the middle of some symbolism, alright?”

I watch the fire burn. I briefly contemplate the thought that forces its way into my mind. Throw your head into it . I ignore it. I shove it away. 

I smile at the symbolism. 

“One at a time, or all at once?” Mouse says, still holding the box.

"All at once."

I smile at him and nod. 

"All of them."

He hands the box to me, indicating I should dump it in. It’s a risky play, but he trusts me.

I nod. 

I don't think. 

I dump it in. 

I watch the thoughts burn.

And I look to him. And he’s not looking at the fire. He’s looking at me, tears welling in his eyes.

“Proud of you.”

I give him a sideways hug as I watch the fire burn.

"Don't cry, Mouse," I whisper. "I'm a sympathetic crier. If you cry, I'll cry."

He quickly wipes his eyes. “I’m good, I’m good,” he says, hugging me back. “You should go help Kate. She’s going to be left alone with frozen breadsticks too long, and she might start deepthroating them.”

I snort a laugh. 

"We can't have her cheating on you with frozen foodstuffs!" I say loudly as I make my way into my kitchen.

Kate is peering longingly at the breadsticks when I arrive, and she gives me a smirk. 

“Thanks for playing with him,” she says, taking stock of everything on the counter, absentmindedly. “He did that with his when he was ready. Razors melt, sure, but it’s more symbolic than anything.” She watches him. He’s already tamping out the fire, brushing the charred and half charred remains into the box. Without another thought, he’s walking down the hall and out the door. Probably to get rid of it in a dumpster outside. When I look back to Kate, though, the tears stream quietly down her face.

"Hey," I whisper, and I pull her close. "What's going through your head? Talk to me, Kate." I'm rubbing circles on her back. "Talk to me."

She closes her eyes, and the tears fall out even more forcefully. “He… he, uh. He gave you the… the necklace. I saw. He didn’t tell me. Not that he needed to, you know, I just… I saw it, and I just… I realized that he… he’s healed. If he’s given away his patron saint medal, I know he’s better. I know he’s better than that. That he’s not going back. He’s moving forward now. And I think you had a part in it. I don’t think he… I don’t know if he ever thought he would see this from the other side. And now that he has, he never wants to go through it again. And he made that choice. It’s not going to get to that point ever again. So… I know this is insane, but thank you. For showing him that.”

I hug her tighter, and we're both crying now. "I'm glad," I choke out, and I'm so so grateful. I rock her a bit as I hold her.

“You know, I always thought I was an only child,” She says. “Turns out I have a dumbass ginger older brother, a younger brother who thinks he’s always right, and a blonde little sister with a caffeine problem.”

I giggle. "If you've got me, you get Crockett too. Package deal. 37-year-old trauma surgeon who doesn't know when to call it quits. We're a motley crew, Kate."

“Two things, one, there’s a lot to unpack with your N’awlins boy, and two, speaking of motley crew, we need music in this place.” She wipes the tears from her eyes and goes back to making what looks like way too much pasta.

I kiss her cheek as I head for the stereo. I plug in the AUX cord with a laugh as I hit shuffle.

"Kate what do you want?"

“Good shit,” she just mutters. “Not any of that new shit. Anything after…1995 is shit anyway. Wait, when were you born?”

I have to think. And count on my fingers. "'96. I'm shit, I guess," I tease. 

“What?!” Kate calls out. “What. Wait. What?! Dude. Dude, what?! You’re—you’re a child! You’re… what!”

Mouse comes back as Kate is stroking out. “What are we dude, what-ing about?”

“She’s a child!” Kate cries, pointing at me. “She’s a baby!”

“What do you mean? She’s twenty-three.”

“How did you know?! She is ten years younger than I am! Mouse! Ten years! Ten! Ten… I need a drink.”

Mouse just starts laughing so hard, the Cubs hat falls off his head.

I pick it up and slam it it backwards onto his head. I have to jump up to reach. 

"I'm twenty-three, not twelve, ' I pout.

“I’m not taking direction from a literal child,” she says, while Mouse slips over to the stereo and AUX cord. 

“What we workin’ with?” He says, skimming through. “Oh, oh shit, yes, here we go.”

An ethnic-sounding drum beat starts, and without missing a beat, Mouse just starts… dancing, I think. 

“I hear the drums echoing tonight,” he starts singing lightly, until he realizes both of us are staring at him.

In retaliation, he stares us down and turns up the volume. 

I giggle and try to jump on his back as I sing along. He catches me with one hand, and I hear Kate snorting from the kitchen. She’s started some sort of pasta concoction, but she’s also trying to dance as she does. 

Mouse starts singing at the top of his lungs: “It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do—I bless the rains down in Africa!”

I’m a literal rag doll to him. I laugh as I bounce around, and I'm just trying to stay upright. With a spin, he pulls me to the front and just… carries me back over to the kitchen.

“You good?” He asks Kate, and she nods, laughing, with a disbelieving look on her face. 

“Are you just, gonna ragdoll her around?” She asks. 

“Hmmm, maybe not,” he says, and immediately, he throws me over one shoulder. 

"Mouse!" I scream, just as the door opens, and Crockett steps in. 

He stares at us. He looks exhausted, and I'm pretty sure he's just come off a double shift, if I know him. 

He's tired, and I know it. I know it by the words that leave his mouth, by the way he sounds like he belongs deep in the French Quarter. 

"Soc Au' Lait?" He asks, in sheer confusion, and he just… he's confused. I snort as I pound Mouse's back to let me down. Once I’m on my own feet again, Mouse heads back to the AUX, while Kate just steps out of the kitchen with a glass in her hand, holding it towards Crockett.

He holds up a finger for her to wait, and he pulls me tight into his arms. I missed him. He's hugging me hard enough that I chuckle, and I laugh out loud as he picks me up off the floor, spinning me around. 

"I missed you, darlin'," he says as he sets me down. 

"Missed you too, 'Kett."

He finally turns to Kate. 

"Hey there, cher, how you've been?" He takes the glass and kisses the top of her head. "Absolute day, and this is just…" he smiles at me, and I know exactly what he means when he tosses a French word off his tongue like it's nothing. "Yeah. This is the lagniappe," he says softly. 

"Hey there, Gerwitz, how's you an' the rest?" He asks, extending his hand out. 

Mouse, in his typical fashion, goes to shake Crockett’s hand, but pulls him into a hug instead. 

And then the next song hits Kate’s ears and she gasps. 

“Mouse, no! Mouse, we talked about this!”

He finally lets go of Crockett, speaking low to the both of us. “Figured you both needed what’s about to happen. She can’t be controlled. Doesn’t matter where she is.”

“Mouse, I hate you!” Kate calls over the music. “I hate you so muc—Poor old Johnny Ray!”

I laugh, and Crockett just shakes his head. He sheds his bag by the door, and he spins me around. Any conversation we could have is punctuated by Kate’s singing in the background—”too ra loo ra, too ra loo rye aye!”

We don't need conversation. We have the music, and we have all of us. I chance a look at Mouse. He looks… delighted, as Kate continues her excitement over the tongue twister of a second verse. 

“Told you I could do it!” She yells, clapping her hands, going back to cooking. And Mouse… his smile fades a little, watching Kate, as he adjusts the hat on his head. When he realizes I’m looking at him, he breaks into a wide smile before looking down at the floor.

My hand goes to the medal around my neck, my other hand tightly gripped in Crockett's. I smile at Mouse, listening to Kate's muttered swears in the kitchen. He works his way back to the AUX cord, bopping along, and seemingly sets up the next song. When it starts, with an a capella voice, Kate drops her utensils loudly. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Mouse, I swear! Are you doing this on purpose? Of course you are. You know I can’t focus during The Rattlin’ Bog. ”

"Oh ro, the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o, a rare bog an' a rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o!" I cry, and I'm ready. Crockett chuckles from beside me.

“Ohhh!” Kate calls out. “Oh, my God! Oh! Oh—” She leans over, hands on her knees as she tries to regain her breath. 

“You know this song, and she’s flippin’ out,” Mouse translates.

“You don’t understand!” Kate says, still out of breath, “You don’t get it! This song! It’s not a song, it’s a sobriety test!”

Crockett laughs long and loud as I break away, bouncing around as I find myself spilling the syllables about a bird in the nest. I screech. 

"I now invoke…." I pause for effect, "the One-Breath Rule!"

Kate bounces out of the kitchen, joining us, singing the upper harmony. Mouse starts the hand claps and tries to get in when he can, but the precious German Pole is still learning.

The Southern Boy is overwhelmed, and he just watches, bemused as Kate and I carry on. This isn't his type, he's more of a crooner and cajun French drinking songs. 

“Don’t worry, Crockett, I got you,” Mouse says, winking. 

As the song nears the end, I challenge Kate with a look. "Last verse, one breath rule!" I grin.

Kate inhales and exhales a few times like a swimmer before a deep dive. 

“Now in that heel there was a nail, a rare nail, a rattlin’ nail, a nail in the heel, heel in the shoe, shoe on the leg, leg on the flea, flea on the feather, feather on the chick, chick in the egg, egg in the nest, nest on the twig, twig on the branch, branch on the tree, a tree in the hole, hole in the bog, and the bog down in the valley-o!”

Kate barely just makes it, but I do. She collapses into Mouse, who feigns holding her up. “Not fair! Her lungs are a decade younger than mine!”

Crockett cracks up. " _ You _ think she's a child?" He picks me up and pretty much ragdolls me. "I have fourteen years on this gremlin." He tosses me onto the couch as I scream a laugh.

Mouse circumvents Kate, heading to the kitchen to check on the inevitably burning food, but before he does, he points dramatically at Crockett as the song changes. It fades in from the wind chimes to the funky guitar riff. 

“Go for it, N’awlins boy!”

Crockett ducks his head, a flush creeping up his neck, but he sings, his voice low. "Well, I built me a raft, an' she's ready for floatin'," he drawls, and he takes Kate's hands, spinning her around under his arm. 

“Always sing for me, ‘Kett,” Kate says, sinking into the dance hold with Crockett almost immediately. Between them, and Mouse throwing a wooden spoon into the air and catching it for no one but himself, I feel myself sigh. Not just sigh, almost an existential sigh. 

I'm home.

**Author's Note:**

> Wyew my heart !


End file.
